


Who Would've Thought

by whoknows



Series: ABO 'verse [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Angst, Dubious Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Jealousy, M/M, Manipulation, Multiple Orgasms, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-24
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-05 23:51:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 44,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1836709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whoknows/pseuds/whoknows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The idea doesn’t come to Louis until they’ve been at the bungalow for a couple of days. Harry has no idea that he’s going to pop a knot. He’s been living his life with the expectation that he’s going to be a beta, and Louis isn’t going to tell him otherwise.</p><p>Louis is an omega, though, and most omegas want to be filled up with a knot, fucked the way their bodies are made to be fucked, and Louis is no different. In ten years he wants to have an alpha waiting for him at home who will hold him down and fuck him exactly the way Louis wants to be fucked without worrying that they’re going to expect him to stay at home, open a joint bank account, raise a litter of babies, cook and clean and, most importantly, be submissive. For that to happen Louis needs an entirely different kind of alpha.</p><p>And so the plan is born.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who Would've Thought

**Author's Note:**

> **ADDITIONAL WARNINGS**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> The dub-con veers into **non-con** territory for a minute before becoming consensual (in the last third of the story)
> 
> Louis has problems with being an omega/his body in this story and may bring up issues similar to sexism. I didn't tag it as such because (40,000 words in) I still haven't decided whether I think, in this universe, being an omega is a sex or not and I didn't want to confuse people.
> 
> It also follows some canon events, including a couple that might be triggery for people: fear of crowds, minor car accident (bus crash of 2012).
> 
> It first part of the story is written backwards but changes into chronological order approximately two thirds of the way through, so hopefully that isn't too confusing.

The story runs on the six o’clock news, on the biggest broadcast of the day. Reporters from all the big news stations, paparazzi, and fans alike swarm the hotel. By the time Louis is led out of the building by the six biggest, buffest security guards that they have, the crowd is so thick that Louis literally can’t see where it ends.

Louis ducks his head and follows along obediently, trying to ignore the blinding flashes of what feels like a million cameras going off all at once. The paparazzi get some great shots of him, still flushed and wide eyed, draped in clothing a size or two too big for him, practically trembling beneath the weight of the stares and screams directed at him.

He’d spent three weeks practicing the look in the mirror, and he’s careful not to lose it until he’s finally alone, locked up in a different hotel room with security outside the door and the curtains drawn tight over the windows.

Then he lets himself smile, just a little.

 

Louis fumbles their hands together underneath the table until he’s managed to get their fingers laced tightly. His palm is damp and sweaty, sliding against Harry’s. Harry knows something’s up, has to know, but he doesn’t say anything. He just grips Louis’ fingers a little tighter and nods along to whatever Niall’s saying. He won’t stop the meeting to ask, not when he’s convinced that it’s probably something Louis needs something from him in private. 

He’s not wrong.

Louis’ breath catches in his throat as he thinks about what he’s about to do, really thinks about it. This is the second last step of the plan, and that’s so fucking scary that Louis almost forgets to take another breath in. Harry’s voice trails off in the middle of a sentence, head tilting towards Louis instinctively. He opens his mouth, about to ask, despite all the other people in the room.

Louis wiggles his hand out of Harry’s grasp and stands up so fast that he knocks his chair over. He leaves the room without saying a word.

His vision blurs a little as he stumbles down the hallway. He can’t tell whether it’s tears or if it’s just spots dancing in front of his eyes, but it doesn’t matter. He feels his way to the bathroom, fingers trailing along the wall, shoves the door open and drops to his knees as soon as it swings shut behind him.

He’d stopped taking his pills intentionally, all of them except the birth control, because he’s desperate, not stupid. The point is that he knew that it was coming, knew that it would be hard, the third heat of his life, but he never really expected it to feel like this, feverish and empty and painful, like he’s going to go out of his mind if he doesn’t get Harry’s knot in him.

There’s time to back out before Harry gets here, to go back up to his room or call Paul and have him stop Harry, but Louis just closes his eyes and puts his sweaty forehead down on the cool tile. It has to be now. It just. It has to be now.

The coolness of the tile helps with the nausea, at least a little, and Louis takes in three big, shuddering breaths before the door creaks open behind him.

“Louis,” Harry says hesitantly. Louis vaguely hears the door snick closed again. That’s good, he’s pretty sure, but it’s hard to remember why. It’s hard to think about anything other than how much he wants to be split apart on Harry’s knot so he can come and just stop thinking.

He just wants to let Harry take care of him.

Louis squeezes his eyes closed tighter and presses his face further into the tile. “Baby,” Harry says helplessly. “What - what’s going on?” 

It’s a useless fucking question, partially because Louis is in no state to answer, but mostly because Harry can clearly smell what’s going on, just like Louis can all but taste Harry’s cock already fattening up.

Louis doesn’t know how long Harry stands there for, just looking, fingers probably pressing against his own cock when they should be pressing into Louis, opening him up. He loses track of time, loses track of everything except getting that cock into him, arse tilted up like an offering.

Then Harry’s hands land on his back, familiar and warm, and Louis can finally breathe properly. “How did this happen,” Harry murmurs distractedly, talking to himself even as he works Louis’ belt open.

Louis breathes into his arm and stays still without even being told, lifting his hips helpfully as Harry tugs his jeans down. He can be good. He can be so good.

Harry sinks two fingers into him without preamble, all the way down to the third knuckle. Louis gasps into the floor, fingernails scratching along the tile. It hurts in the best possible way, too much and too fast. It’s exactly what Louis needs.

“Are you still on your birth control?” Harry asks suddenly. He twists his fingers and spreads them apart, opening Louis up so he can fit in his cock inside.

Louis whines and forces himself up onto Harry’s fingers as far as he can get. The slap comes as a surprise, brief pain shooting through his arse. “I asked you a question,” Harry says sharply.

“Took ‘em,” Louis croaks out, throat dry. “Took ‘em this morning.”

“That’s good,” Harry says. He sinks another finger in just as easily as he had the first two. “You’re good. Remembered to take them.”

Louis nods to the tile. His cock’s trapped between his belly and the floor, hard and dripping. He could touch it, touch himself, but if he did that he’d come right away and Harry might not fuck him here, might try to get him somewhere private. That can’t happen.

“’m good,” Louis tells the tile. He hears Harry’s quiet exhale just before he pushes in, fingers tangling with Louis’ to hold him in place, and Louis doesn’t know when he pushed his own jeans down but it doesn’t matter, not when there’s ten inches of thick cock filling him up so good that Louis wants to scream.

“You’re good,” Harry repeats. He sets a slow, easy rhythm. It’s not how Louis thought it would be, his first heat with an alpha’s cock to get him through it, but it’s good, it’s always so fucking good, having Harry’s cock in him. Louis will take it however he can get it.

It doesn’t take long for Harry’s knot to swell up, nudging against Louis’ rim, and Louis comes, helpless not to, when it finally locks inside.

When Louis blinks his eyes open again a few minutes later, he’s sitting on Harry’s lap. He thinks that he came a second time during those few minutes, certainly got enough come splattered on his belly for that to be the case, but he can’t be sure. Harry’s got his back against the wall, hitching his hips up slowly as he pulses come into Louis’ body.

Louis sighs and lets his eyes slip closed again, fumbling for Harry’s hand and lacing their fingers together.

“How did you remember to take the birth control pills but none of the other ones?” Harry asks softly.

Louis tenses for a split second, unease jumping through him. “Dunno,” he says, slurring it out as much as he can. It doesn’t take much effort, not with the way his body already feels, and Harry will believe it. Harry believes that Louis is trustworthy.

He’s really not.

The door opens then, Niall coming to check on them. He yelps, slaps a hand over his eyes and backs out of the room, practically tripping over his own feet.

Harry laughs a little and slips both of their hands underneath Louis’ shirt to rest on his bare skin.

Louis smiles too, but not because they just gave Niall an eyeful.

There’s a security camera stationed outside of the bathroom, placed in exactly the right spot to get footage of Louis in Harry’s lap, caught on his knot, when Niall had pushed the door open.

The story will probably already have broken by the time they make it out of the bathroom.

 

Their management spins the story like this: Harry hadn’t known he was an alpha and thought that he was a beta, true to what he’d been saying for the last two years, and when he’d popped his first knot he’d been understandably freaked out. Louis had known that he was an omega, but lied about it because he was afraid of what could happen if anyone found out. They said that not even the boys knew, and it’s all true enough.

Then they say that it was a mistake, that Louis had run out of scent suppressants and hadn’t gotten a chance to get more, that Harry had been overwhelmed and scared and they’d done something that they never would have done, otherwise. It’s a story that victimizes both of them, makes them both look helpless and young and scared. It’s about as far from the truth as it can get.

Louis can work with it.

 

Louis has always known that Harry would pop a knot, is the thing. Even during that first, brief meeting in the X-Factor toilets before they were even put in a group, Louis had known that Harry would be an alpha. It wasn’t in the way he carried himself, or in the way that he acted, but Louis knew, somehow, that this boy with beta mannerisms and characteristics would defy all odds.

It helps that Louis is the only one who has ever thought so, aside from Harry’s family, who probably only suspected that he might be an alpha when he was young, barely more than a toddler, demanding toys from other kids and getting them without so much as a single argument or just being generally stubborn and pushy. They’d chalked it up to a lack of manners and tried to teach him better. It’s not unheard of, to assume a child will be a beta in a family full of them.

Louis doesn’t think much of it, at least not at first, because meeting a cute boy who presents as beta but will end up alpha in a toilet is the least of his concerns. Harry’s sweet, though, and he practically falls over himself to apologize when he somehow manages to get a little pee on Louis, so Louis snaps a picture of them with their cheeks smushed together before they go their separate ways.

He doesn’t think that much of it when they end up getting put in a group together, and especially not before that, during boot camp, when Harry would always, inevitably end up at Louis’ side, like he’d been drawn there. 

Louis has been saying that he’s a beta for as long as he can remember. He presents as a beta, always has, and that’s the way that nearly everyone knows him. His family and Stan, they know the truth, but that’s about it, aside from the obvious medical professionals who are bound to silence by confidentiality laws, and that’s the way that Louis likes it. 

Louis isn’t the type of omega that the media portrays as desirable, which is part of the problem. He’s loud and brash and always trying to make himself the center of attention. He hates being told what to do and he’ll go out of his way to disobey a direct order from an alpha. He’s not docile, is the thing, and the idea of being sweet and submissive for some big knotheaded alpha makes his skin crawl.

Add all that in to the fact that Louis has wanted to be an actor or make music for pretty much his entire life, and it basically boils down to this: there are plenty of successful omega celebrities out there, getting roles and playing music and writing and doing what they love. 

Not all of them end up with an alpha, but given enough time, they all end up happily mated. The ones that do end up mated to an alpha have the rest of the world not so secretly wondering whether that alpha is pulling all the strings behind the scenes, controlling the omega’s income and career and _life_.

The thought of someone doing that to Louis, the thought of someone being able to control him like that, makes him feel sick.

But Louis is an omega, and most omegas want to be filled up with a knot, filled up to the brim, helpless and whimpering, caught on an alpha’s cock, fucked the way their bodies are made to be fucked, and Louis is no different. In ten years he wants to have an alpha waiting for him at home who will hold him down and fuck him exactly the way Louis wants to be fucked without worrying that they’re going to expect him to stay at home, open a joint bank account, raise a litter of babies, cook and clean and, most importantly, be submissive.

And for that to happen Louis needs an entirely different kind of alpha.

 

 

The thing about being an omega is that choosing who you’re gonna spend your heat with is always made out to be such a big, gigantic thing. It’s supposed to be something special, what with most omegas being on heat suppressants now.

Louis thinks that it doesn’t address the _reason_ that most omegas are on heat suppressants now, which is that everyone is still afraid of what an alpha can do to an omega in heat, of all the horror stories that make the news on a daily basis. Louis thinks it’s a crock of shit, placing the blame on the omegas for not being on suppressants rather than the alphas for not being able to control themselves, but he could go on about that all day, the injustices of being an omega in an alpha centric world.

Louis keeps track of how many times they’ve had sex, adding each time to the tally in his head - and that week at the cabin _does not_ count - and it feels like they get a little closer to the end goal every time.

Lately, though, Harry’s been pulling away. He thinks he’s being subtle, still wrapping Louis up in his arms every day and pressing his mouth against the back of Louis’ head whenever Louis isn’t expecting it, but he’s really not. The last time they had sex was nearly three weeks ago, barely at all since their holiday. And yeah, alright, Louis tries to make sure that it doesn’t happen too often so that when it does Harry’s reminded of exactly how good Louis feels on him, but he’s been letting it happen more, bringing them closer to the next step of the plan.

He’s conditioning Harry to respond to his arse with instant arousal, and Louis is aware that it probably makes him a dick, but this is the way that it has to be. Louis is trying to get himself mated, here. Failure is not an option.

It’s been nearly a year since the first time, though. They fucked for the first time at the beginning of the tour. They’ve had sex fifteen times, and Louis remembers every single one vividly, gets himself off to the memories nearly every night. It feels like it might be time to take the next step, to push Harry into taking it farther.

Plus every time Harry pulls away from a hug a beat too soon Louis’ heart feels like it might actually be breaking, and he gets more and more desperate to make sure that he’s keeping Harry. He’s not going to let it go on like this any longer.

It’s an easy decision to stop taking his suppressants.

 

 

It’s been a long week. They have twelve days off - _in a row_ \- coming up, once they get through this show. Of course, there’s some promo stuff to be done, flights to be taken, jetlag to sleep through, so in total there’s about eight days of uninterrupted _holiday_.

Part of Louis is so fucking excited that he can’t wait. Most of him is just tired, though, so he figures he’ll head back to London and sleep for about half of it.

Liam’s been trying to talk him into going to Australia to surf, but so far Louis has escaped that line of questioning with vague answers about having promised his mum that he’d come home and see the girls for a while.

He’s avoiding Liam right now, hiding in his bunk on the bus with the covers pulled up over his head like that’s going to stop Liam from finding him. He lies very still as footsteps approach the bunks, hopefully on their way to the back to play video games or something.

The footsteps pause right in front of Louis’ head, but he relaxes anyway. He can tell all the boys apart by the sound of their footsteps, and those are definitely not Liam’s steps, too slow and heavy.

It is Harry, though, and Louis’ kind of been avoiding him, too, still a little bit flustered from letting Harry fuck him in the shower backstage after yesterday’s show while their crew bustled around taking down the stage, only a flimsy door with a crappy lock keeping them out.

 _What_. It was Madrid, alright, and people do say Spain is the country of passion.

The point is that Louis lies very still and pretends like he’s not there when Harry pushes the curtain back, spilling artificial light into the bunk. Harry apparently isn’t keen on letting Louis hide, though, pulling the blankets down to Louis’ shoulders.

“What are you doing during the break?” Harry asks. It’s a random enough question that Louis is startled into opening his eyes. Harry’s leaning into Louis’ bunk with an elbow on the mattress, propping his head up on his hand. Their faces are close enough that Louis wouldn’t have to strain if he wanted to kiss him.

Louis wants to kiss him. Louis always wants to kiss him, though, so by now he’s good at refraining. “I was planning on going to Doncaster and seeing my mum for a bit.”

“There’s this little cottage outside of Lima that Nick knows about,” Harry says, slow enough that Louis suspects he might have already had a few drinks. Louis would be offended that they’re drinking without him, but, well, he’s been avoiding Harry for the past twelve hours.

Harry doesn’t add anything else and just looks at Louis expectantly. “Congratulations?” Louis hazards.

“It’s winter there so it’s going to be quiet,” Harry says. “No one will see us.” 

Oh. Louis gets it now. “I don’t like the cold.”

Harry’s expression brightens. “It’s not going to be that cold, though,” he explains. “Apparently their winters don’t really get that cold.”

“Liam wants me to go surfing with him,” Louis says. Harry leans further into the bunk, like he’s thinking about climbing in.

“I want you to go on holiday with me,” Harry says. “Remember when we took that ski trip? That was fun.”

They took that ski trip before Louis started letting Harry put it in him. Louis is under absolutely no illusions that this holiday would be anything like that one. If they took a holiday together now they’d probably just end up having sex and sleeping.

“Don’t you want to go to L.A. and hang out with your celebrity friends?” Louis asks sharply, mainly because he’s being cornered and he can’t come up with a good enough reason to say no. If Harry pressed, Louis wouldn’t be able to say that he doesn’t want to.

Louis needs to distract him from pressing, so he adds, “I’m sure any one of them would let you stick in them for a few days. What you want is a sex holiday, not a real holiday.” 

He’s expecting Harry’s face to close off the way it does when Louis says something particularly mean. He’s not expecting Harry’s face to get even brighter, happier, like this is exactly the reaction that he was trying to get.

Louis is thrown. He’s the one who knows which buttons to push to get Harry to do something. It’s not the other way around.

“I want to have a sex holiday with _you_ ,” he says. “We’ll stop on the way there and pick up a week’s worth of groceries and we’ll bring along some films to watch because there’s no cable and then we won’t even have to leave the property.”

Louis schools his face into the most unimpressed look he has in his repertoire. It’s pretty unimpressed. Harry sighs, making an attempt to pull his mouth down at the corners. It mostly fails.

“Okay, it doesn’t have to be a sex holiday. I just miss you, alright? I just want to spend a week hanging out with you like we used to.” He leaves _before we had sex and got told that we needed to tone it down in public_ unsaid, but Louis hears it anyway. 

He feels a little guilty, because if it wasn’t for him they would be able to hang out in public and they’d be able make flirty innuendos in interviews and Louis would still be able to make Harry piggyback him to every soundcheck without being talked to about it for an hour afterwards.

“Like we’re going to be able to spend a week alone in a remote cabin with no one checking in on us every two hours and _not_ have sex,” Louis grumbles. The smile starts making its way back onto Harry’s face.

“So that’s a yes, then?” he asks, spreading out a hand on Louis’ stomach, warm even through the blanket.

Louis gives in. “If you can get Paul to agree to it, sure,” he says. If it was Louis asking Paul would just laugh in his face and then stick one of their security on him for the week to make sure Louis couldn’t escape anyway, but it’s Harry. He’ll probably pull an insane amount of charm out of the bag and convince Paul to let them go to the airport without any security whatsoever.

Louis just won’t add it to his count. It’s a _holiday_. He can have as much sex as he wants without it affecting the plan. That’s what a holiday is, right?

 

Louis drops his bag at his feet and surveys the cabin skeptically. “Why does it not surprise me that Grimshaw is the one who hooked you up with this place?”

Harry laughs, loud and bright, echoing through the stillness of the air. Harry wasn’t lying, there’s practically no chance of anyone seeing them here. This cabin is so remote and out of the way they’d gotten lost three times on the way here, even with Nick’s directions and GPS.

“You secretly love him,” Harry says, shutting the car door and coming around to grab Louis’ bag off the ground.

Louis sniffs and heads up the rickety stairs to the front door. “I will admit to no such thing.” He tests the doorknob and finds it unlocked. “Gee, that makes me feel so much more secure,” he comments, swinging the door open and stepping inside.

It’s not actually as bad as the outside made it seem. It’s clean, for starters, filled with furniture that actually kind of matches, and well lit, once Louis flips the switch. It’s two stories, but Louis has no interest in the top level for now, heading to the kitchen to see if they at least have the essentials.

There’s already a kettle waiting on the counter, so he fills it with water and switches it on, leaving it to do its thing while he pulls open all the cupboards to see what there is. It’s already stocked with food, at Harry’s request, and there’s an entire cupboard full of Louis’ favorite snacks.

“Are you trying to make me fat?” he shouts. He doesn’t know where Harry’s gone, but it doesn’t matter. Louis has found the cupboard full of tea. Literally _full_ of tea. He doesn’t know how much tea these people expect them to drink in a week but he’s pretty determined not to let them down.

By the time Louis has both cups of tea ready the way they like them - Harry’s with sugar, what a _disgrace_ \- Harry’s made his way into the kitchen, sitting barefoot at the table, already stripped out of his shirt. Louis is probably just lucky that he hasn’t stripped all the way yet.

Louis sets the cup down in front of him and takes a seat on the opposite side. “So here’s how it’s gonna work,” he says suddenly. “You’re going to do all the cooking and cleaning and I’m gonna choose what we do all day and if you don’t like it you’re gonna shut up about it.”

Harry’s dimples are out in full force. “And that’s different from any other day how?”

Louis narrows his eyes at him. “We’re not going to talk about anything that happens here once we leave,” he continues. He’s got Harry’s interest now, a slow, considering once over that has Louis’ body heating up.

“So does that mean I get to do anything I want to you?” Harry asks. “Like, if I just wanted to eat you out for hours you’d let me do that?”

Louis sits forward and crosses his legs. “This is a no sex holiday,” he says primly. “We’re using this time to reconnect with each other.”

Harry’s laughing, now, slumped back in his chair so that the tattoos on his torso are standing out. 

“Okay,” Harry agrees, taking a sip of his tea. He makes a pleased noise before continuing. “We’ll see how long you can last for, then.” 

It’s so obviously a challenge that Louis narrows his eyes again and decides right then and there that he’s not going to break before Harry does.

 

Louis spends the rest of the day hanging off of Harry and rubbing up against him every time he can get away with it. Harry makes them tacos for dinner, and normally Louis gets stuck with all the chopping because Harry’s afraid that he’s going to set something on fire - which, Louis meant to set that tea towel on fire. He gets bored when he has to wait for something to cook and pyromania is a perfectly logical hobby to attempt to take up.

He gets demoted even further today, though, banished to sit on his hands on top of the counter because he kept flicking pieces of chopped veggies into Harry’s hair.

“Is it ready yet?” Louis asks. It’s the fifth time he’s asked in the last two minutes, but he’s _hungry_. He needs to be fed already.

“I just put it on,” Harry says. It’s the fifth time he’s said it, but he won’t give Louis an actual time that it’s going to be ready.

Probably because Louis sets a timer and then does horrible things to Harry’s belongings if it’s not ready by the time the buzzer goes off, but. What can you do.

Louis heaves a dramatic sigh and flings himself out along the counter, splaying his arms out as wide as they can get. It leaves one of his hands uncomfortably close to the stove, but Harry won’t actually let him burn himself, so he leaves it where it is for now.

“I’m so hungry,” he moans. He wiggles around a little, until he can feel his shirt riding up his stomach.

Harry laughs. “You’re not going to win like that,” he says. “A little bit of skin isn’t going to push me over the edge when I’ve seen you naked a million times.”

Louis smirks to himself. A little bit of skin always pushes Harry over the edge, no matter how much he tries to deny it.

And Louis doesn’t lose bets, so he says, “So if I stripped naked on the counter you’d just leave me alone?”

“If you stripped naked on the counter I’d spank you a few times for putting your bare arse all over it,” Harry says evenly, which. What the hell. He’s not allowed to be so calm and collected when Louis is talking about being naked for Harry to see.

“If you spanked me I’d put Deep Heat in all your pants,” Louis says, but he can’t get the thought out of his head, Harry’s hand coming down hot and heavy on him.

“This conversation is going nowhere,” Harry announces, stirring the meat in the pan. “Anything you say is going to make me want to slap your arse.”

Louis rolls onto his side, ignoring the way that his hipbone presses uncomfortably against the hard counter. Maybe he’ll be able to convince Harry to kiss it better later, after dinner. “What makes you think that I’d let you?”

Harry stops stirring. He’s still looking down at the pan, hair falling in his face, the beginnings of his dimples appearing on his cheeks. Louis hates those things sometimes. “What makes you think you could stop me?”

Louis’ breath hitches. That’s not something that they ever talk about. The fact that Harry could just _put him_ somewhere without even trying is something that goes unsaid, especially now that he’s finally popped his knot. They don’t talk about it because Louis won’t _let_ them talk about it, always changing the subject.

This is their sex vacation, though, and just because they don’t talk about it doesn’t mean that Harry doesn’t know that it’s a thing. Harry’s watching him now, eyes just a shade darker than usual, waiting for his reaction.

There’s two ways this could go. Louis could let it continue and they’d probably have sex, maybe even up against a wall like last time, in the shower, or he could avoid the question and keep going until he wins the bet.

“The meat’s burning,” he says, nodding to the pan. Harry curses and scrambles to get it off the heat, and Louis goes back to ignoring the tingling in his toes from how bad he wants it.

He’s pretty sure that Harry won’t last much longer, anyway. He really doesn’t have any willpower when it comes to Louis’ bare skin.

 

Dinner is an exercise in restraint, slapping food out of Harry’s hands every time Harry goes to feed him and ‘accidentally’ grinding his palm into Harry’s dick when he spills lettuce into his lap. They’re both breathing a little hard by the time dinner’s over, hands knocking into each other as they try to clear off the table.

Louis takes a quick shower and heads back down to the living room wearing only a pair of tight briefs, the pair that are snug on the bum that always catch Harry’s attention.

“That’s not fair,” Harry says as soon as he catches sight of him. Louis grins and wiggles his hips a little before fiddling with some cords, hooking the DVD player up to the telly.

“What?” Louis asks, slipping the first disc in that he sees. He goes back to the couch and folds himself up on it, close but not touching Harry.

“That’s a bloody foul,” Harry mutters, handing Louis a beer, bottle still cold and slightly slippery with condensation. Louis looks at it and then at Harry, raising an eyebrow. 

“You really don’t wanna win, huh?” he remarks, popping the top off before taking a long swallow, lips wrapped around the rim, cheeks hollowed.

His lips are wet when he pulls off, thumbing across them to get a stray drop off. Harry’s still watching him. “Mainly I just wanted to see you do that,” Harry says.

“Well now you’ve seen it,” Louis says. He curls into Harry’s side and shushes him even though he’s not saying anything, pressing play on the remote. It turns out to be some weird indie French noir film, and it’s so boring that Louis keeps trying to press the eject button on the remote every five minutes. Harry keeps stopping him, though, because he’s actually into it, fucking weirdo that he is, fingers curled tightly around Louis’ wrists and remote on the other side of his body.

Louis means to lull him into a false sense of security by going lax for a few minutes, but somehow he ends up falling asleep instead.

 

He wakes up still on the couch, face pressed into Harry’s lap. He’s fuzzy and disoriented and he has no idea how long he’s slept for, but Harry’s cock is hard and poking him in the cheek, so it feels like the most natural thing in the world to peel him out of his flannel trousers and sink his mouth down onto it.

And down, and down, until his nose is nestled in the hair at the base, trimmed neatly. Harry’s cock is filling his mouth, pressing into his throat, making his mouth water. He swallows reflexively a couple of times and breathes through his nose, content to stay there for a minute, until Harry’s knot starts forming.

Harry’s hand lands on the back of his neck and squeezes gently. “Baby, what’re you,” he says, drowsy and still half asleep. Louis sucks a little, swallows around the head of Harry’s cock again.

It draws out a moan from Harry and the hand on the back of his neck pushing him down a little, even though there’s nowhere left for Louis to go. Louis closes his eyes and sucks a little more. 

That seems to wake Harry up fully, because his grip tightens and he says, “Louis. Where did you learn to do that?”

Louis hums vaguely and settles into it, rubbing his tongue along Harry’s cock as he draws up slowly and sinks back down even slower. His jaw aches already but he feels like he could do this all day regardless, wrap his hand around Harry’s knot and just swallow it all. His voice would be so fucked from it, but they’ve got the entire week, so if there was ever an appropriate time it’s now.

Harry’s fingers tangle in his hair and pull him all the way up and off, though. Louis’ eyes water. His mouth already feels empty, wants to get Harry’s cock back in it.

“Are you listening?” Harry asks sharply, and wow, he sounds kind of pissed. Probably if Louis put his cock back into his mouth he wouldn’t be angry anymore.

He tries to get back to it, but Harry yanks him further away. Louis makes a face and climbs into Harry’s lap properly, trapping his cock under his arse. He rolls his hips, pushing down against Harry’s cock, trying to trick him into thrusting up so they can really get a rhythm going.

Harry stills him with both hands on his hips. Louis doesn’t pout. “Where did you learn to do that?” Harry repeats. Louis blinks.

“Do what?” His voice comes out raspy, obviously just been fucked. Louis likes it.

Harry likes it too, if his fingertips pressing bruises into Louis’ hips is any indication. “Where did you learn to suck cock like that?”

Louis blinks again. “I dunno.”

“You took me down all the way,” Harry snaps. His fingers tighten even more on Louis’ hips. “You put like, no effort into it and you took me all the way down.”

“I don’t have a gag reflex?” Louis asks, confused. “How is this a surprise to you?”

It shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone. Louis has shoved his fingers down his own throat to gross out the boys and make them think he’s going to throw up on multiple occasions. He’s done the whole shoving a popsicle down his throat and wiggling his eyebrows lasciviously in Harry’s direction thing once or twice. It only makes Harry crack up, which is never really Louis’ intention, but anytime there’s a smile on Harry’s face caused by Louis it’s a win.

Harry’s silent. Louis wiggles a little more, trying to see if Harry’s cock is still taking an interest in the proceedings.

It is, because Louis is mostly naked in his lap and that never fails to get him going. Harry doesn’t seem inclined to do anything about it, though, so Louis rolls his eyes and punches Harry in the ribs. “Do you wanna fuck or what?”

Harry catches his hand absently and holds it against his own stomach. “So you haven’t blown anyone?”

Louis tries very hard not be angry at the question. This is supposed to be a holiday. It’s supposed to be relaxing.

It doesn’t work.

“Who the fuck’s dick would I have sucked?” he snaps, rolling off of Harry and onto his feet. Harry looks ridiculous, cock hanging out of his pants, still hard.

“I’m not with you twenty-four seven,” Harry says. Louis jerks. It’s basically a slap in the face.

“You arsehole,” Louis says. He shakes his head and takes a step away, then another when it doesn’t feel like there’s enough space between them.

He thinks about walking away for a minute but doesn’t. Just because he’s an omega doesn’t mean that he’s going to walk away from a fight with an alpha, not even when it’s a fight with the only alpha who’s ever fucked him while his arse is still a little bit wet from being touched by that alpha.

“I don’t know what you expect,” Harry starts, tucking himself back into his pants. “One minute you’re sneaking me into your hotel room and the next you’re flirting with fucking _Bob_. Who the fuck flirts with Bob?”

Louis just. “Bob’s sixty years old.”

Harry throws his hands out. “Exactly!”

Louis shakes his head slowly. “No, Harry, Bob’s _sixty years old_. I don’t flirt with him. I’m just being _nice_ to him. I recognize that’s a strange concept for you because you flirt like you breathe, but I’m not like that.”

Harry laughs incredulously. “You flirt with older men all the time. Aside from me the only people you flirt with _are_ older men.”

All of a sudden it just clicks, and Louis relaxes. “I’m going to pretend like the last ten minutes didn’t happen,” he says graciously. Harry’s jaw ticks.

“You can’t just pretend like we’re not fighting whenever it’s convenient for you,” Harry says tightly.

Louis makes an executive decision and strips himself out of his pants. His heart beats a little faster, conscious of all the places that Harry has muscle that Louis just doesn’t. “We’re not fighting,” Louis says lightly. He’s only half hard, so he grips his cock and gives it a few strokes to help it along.

“Stop that,” Harry demands, but he sounds lost, staring at Louis with his mouth open. He’s not using his alpha voice, and that would be the only thing that makes Louis even think about stopping.

“Do you know why we’re not fighting?” Louis continues, eyelids fluttering as he swipes his thumb over the head of his cock. It’s distracting, trying to hold a conversation at the same time as he jerks off, especially while Harry’s watching him do it.

Harry’s fingers flex against his own thighs, like he’s fighting the urge to stand up and cross the room and take over. Louis really wishes that he would. Jerking off by himself while Harry just stares at him is hard and Louis isn’t sure that he likes it.

His cock insists that he does like it, but if he listened to his cock every time it had something to say they would’ve had sex in that X-Factor toilet and just about every time Harry stared at him while biting his lip after.

“We’re not fighting because I’m feeling magnanimous today and I’m going to forget that you’re being a jealous, possessive dickwad,” Louis continues. “I haven’t been with anyone other than you and you’re the only person I flirt with. Now I’m going upstairs and I’m going to get off, and I really don’t care if you join me or not.”

He turns on his heel and makes it exactly four steps before Harry’s arms slip around his waist and pull him to a stop. “I’m sorry,” Harry says. His fingers slide down Louis’ hipbones, heading towards his cock. Louis doesn’t stop him.

He circles Louis’ cock with three fingers, stroking along it lightly. He has his chin hooked over Louis’ shoulder, breathing on him as he watches him own hand jerk Louis off. Louis’ knees tremble a little.

“Really, though,” Harry murmurs, right into Louis’ ear, “not even a dildo?”

Louis rolls his eyes and grips onto Harry’s forearm. “You’ve seen everything I’ve got.” Harry has, because he has no concept of Louis’ things not being communal. The last time he went more than two days without rifling through Louis’ bag for something he was bed ridden. Louis has gone to Doncaster for a couple of days and come back to find all of his clothing washed and folded up neatly in his drawers instead of strewn all over the floor like he’d left it.

The look on Harry’s face when he’d found one of Louis’ dildoes that first time had been hilarious, shocked and a little bit scared, like he thought it was going to bite him or something. He’d literally yelped and dropped it onto the ground.

Of course, Louis’ heart had nearly pounded out of his chest at the time, because it’d been about a week after they’d moved in together, way before Harry had known that Louis is an omega. For a genuinely scary moment Louis had been convinced that Harry knew, but Harry was spooked for a day or two before going back to digging through Louis’ stuff like he owned it, uncaring of what he might find. He wouldn’t have put two and two together and come up with four if Louis hadn’t have initiated it.

Sometimes Louis leaves the toys just hanging around his room in random places, but Harry doesn’t even blink anymore.

“No, I mean you haven’t ever tried it on a dildo?” Harry asks.

Louis lets his head tip back against Harry’s chest. His knees aren’t threatening to give out underneath him anymore, but that’s probably because Harry’s not really moving his hand.

He considers making a joke, turning the situation and making Harry forget what he asked. It’d be easy enough to do that. All Louis would have to do is press his arse back against Harry’s crotch and say _tried it on this, didn’t I?_ and Harry would be sufficiently distracted.

It’s their sex holiday, though, and they’ve already agreed that Harry isn’t allowed to bring up anything that happens here ever again, which might be worrying for the plan if Harry has ever broken his word - with Louis, that is, because he can break promises to the boys or to Paul or to their security all he wants, but if he ever does that to Louis he’ll have Harry’s head - so it doesn’t feel like a risk to say it.

“Those things are bad enough when they’re going into my arse, why the fuck would I want to put them in my mouth, too,” Louis grumbles. He feels Harry’s sharp inhale more than he hears it.

“You don’t like them?” Harry asks. He lets go of Louis’ cock entirely. Louis absolutely does not make a pitiful noise.

Harry turns him gently, both hands on Louis’ shoulders. Louis feels so incredibly naked, especially when Harry’s pajama pants brush against his legs. “Why would I want them when there’s you,” Louis mumbles, fast and with his full Yorkshire accent, like that’s going to stop Harry from understanding him.

Louis can mumble something vague that’s only half a sentence and has absolutely nothing to do with anything in the accent he gets when he’s around his family that even Stan wouldn’t understand and Harry would still get it.

He looks up at Harry’s face and has to clench his fingers together. Harry’s expression is _blown_. “So every time you’ve used them you’ve been thinking of me?” Harry asks, voice deep and slow. It’s his alpha voice.

Louis shivers and tries to ignore the slick dripping down the back of his thighs. Hopefully none of it will end up on the carpeting. It’s not good to make a mess. “Not every time,” he says. “There’s one that I had before I met you.”

It’s as much of a confession as he’s willing to make, but it doesn’t seem to matter. Harry sinks back down onto the couch and holds both arms out, and Louis is pleased that he at least still has the awareness to recognize that Harry looks completely dumb, but it doesn’t stop him from clambering back onto Harry’s lap.

“You’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Harry says. “God, just be naked for me all the time.” He kisses Louis in the same breath, lining their mouths up together on the first try. Louis opens up for it, coaxes Harry’s tongue into his mouth.

He links his fingers behind Harry’s neck and wiggles around on his lap a little, breathing out a gasp when Harry bites his bottom lip.

“If I’m naked all the time everyone will see, though,” Louis says. “That’s not good.” Harry’s hands sweep up the outside of his thighs and settle on his hips.

“Okay, just be naked when we’re alone in a room with a lock,” Harry amends. “That’d be good. That’d be the best.”

Louis snaps the waist of Harry’s pajamas. “Can you be naked now?”

Harry stands up abruptly, hands underneath Louis’ thighs. Louis yelps and presses his knees into Harry’s sides, and then yelps harder when Harry starts walking. “You’re gonna drop me, Jesus, don’t fucking drop me,” he says.

He can hear Harry’s eye roll. “When have I ever fucking dropped you?”

It’s a good point. For all that Harry can’t normally take two steps without tripping over something when he’s got Louis in his arms he’s practically the steadiest person in the world. Louis doesn’t understand how it works, but he’s just going to count his blessings.

“Where are we going?” he asks instead, even though he’s pretty sure that he already knows. Harry likes to fuck in a bed. He likes to be able to pin Louis down to the mattress and keep him there without worrying that someone random is going to walk in on them. At least in a hotel room the only people that might see something are people that they know and trust.

“I’m gonna put you in the bed,” Harry murmurs, hitching Louis up further. He climbs the stairs carefully and enters the bedroom. The sheets are soft against Louis’ back when he’s dropped onto them. It feels like a high thread count.

Louis shouldn’t be surprised, considering that Harry made the arrangements, but he kind of is. Nick is exactly the kind of twat who would get scratchy flannel sheets just to piss Louis off. Louis would have done it to him.

“I’m in the bed now,” Louis announces unnecessarily. He’s already getting the sheets wet where he’s lying.

“I’m looking at you,” Harry says. He sounds a little dazed, like he can’t believe this is his life. Louis would be able to commiserate, but, well. He worked hard to get here. This is the product of a well executed plan.

Louis squirms impatiently. His cock feels like it’s been hard for hours. “Can you look at me faster?”

Harry peels his pajama pants off. He’s not wearing pants underneath, so his cock springs out, fully hard and with the tiniest hint of his knot already forming. “Not when you look like that,” he says. Louis shuffles up the bed until his head hits a pillow and then draws a knee up.

“Well if you’re just going to look at me I’m going to get myself ready,” he says challengingly and drops his hand down to his arse.

Harry’s on the bed so fast that Louis barely even sees him move, fingers closing around his wrist and pulling it away. “You’re going to be a good boy and not put your fingers in your arse,” he says. He’s leaning over Louis, elbow propped up beside his head.

“Are you gonna do it, then, while I’m being a good boy?” Louis asks, brushing his fingers against Harry’s stomach. The angle’s weird, what with Harry gripping his wrist and all, but it’s worth it for the way Harry’s muscles jump under his touch.

A finger slides into him. Louis inhales and spreads his legs for it, back arching up off the bed. He’s already so easy for it, wet and loosening by the second, with every brush of Harry’s finger inside of him.

Harry adds a second one, nudging up against Louis’ prostate easily, like it’s his mission in life to find all the best spots on Louis’ body and commit them to memory.

He fucking better. Louis hasn’t worked this hard for nothing. He blinks open his eyes, not even sure when he’d closed them, and watches Harry biting on his own lip, eyes focused on the stretch of Louis’ hole around his fingers.

Louis puts a hand on Harry’s head. He doesn’t mean for it to do anything, honestly just resting it there, but Harry’s elbow goes out from underneath himself, head landing on Louis’ belly soft enough that it had to have been intentional.

A minute of gentle fingering passes, sweet and slow. 

It’s really fucking strange. Louis isn’t saying that Harry rushes the prep, but sometimes Harry rushes the prep, especially when Louis is as easy for it as he is right now, nearly twelve hours into teasing each other.

“You gonna get on with it or do you want me to bust out one of the toys?” Louis asks, carding his fingers through Harry’s hair. Harry bites him, teeth sharp, on the thin skin of his belly button. It’s not deep enough to break the skin, just enough to have Louis’ cock throbbing in time with his arse.

“Wanna finger you all day,” Harry murmurs, voice thick. He presses a kiss to the spot he’d just bitten, softly. Louis knows him, though, so he only flinches a little when Harry bites the exact same spot harder, sucking this time. He likes to leave bruises in places he thinks no one will be able to see them.

Louis isn’t going to be the one who points out that they all tend to walk around shirtless a lot. He’s not ashamed of it, and if Harry is then he shouldn’t be such a vampire.

And if it helps get some of the unfamiliar alphas looming around backstage off his back Louis doesn’t have to mention it to anyone.

“This is our _sex holiday_ , love,” he reminds Harry. “If I don’t get a knot in my arse in the next five minutes I’m going to abandon you and find someone else in town who can take care of me properly.”

Harry’s fingers slow even more, rocking against his prostate smoothly. “I’m taking care of you,” he says mulishly. Louis lets him spread him out a little more, pushing on his thighs until there’s more room for Harry’s chest between them.

“You’re torturing me,” Louis says. He clenches down around Harry’s fingers, trying to get him to at least pick up his pace a little. “I think this might be the wettest I’ve been in my entire life.”

He can feel the smile that Harry presses into his belly, and knows what he’s going to say before he even opens his mouth. “Think I’ve made you a little wetter once or twice.”

Louis thunks him on the back of the head. “Just because we’re on a sex holiday doesn’t mean that you get to talk about the one time that I let you come in my arse.”

“That one time was thirteen times,” Harry whispers to Louis’ belly, like it’s a secret. Louis bites his lip and ignores how sure Harry sounded when he said the number.

He’s not wrong, but it says something that he knows exactly how many times it’s been, almost as if he’s been keeping a count just like Louis has, and Louis doesn’t want to think about that right now.

He shifts a little and gets reminded that Harry’s fingers are still inside of him in the best possible way. “How about you fuck me now and I’ll let you finger me for a while after if I feel like it.”

Harry presses another kiss to his belly. “That doesn’t sound like much of a compromise to me.” He pulls his fingers out, though, and rocks up onto his knees easily. Louis is always amazed when he busts out that move, partially because of his bad back and partially because of his complete lack of gracefulness.

“But you’re going to do it anyway because I want you to,” Louis says. He puts a hand on Harry’s jaw and rubs his fingers against it. Harry bites at them, sucking one into his mouth for a second. Louis licks his lips and strains forward to be kissed again.

Harry obliges, but only for a minute. “You ready?” he asks, and pushes in while Louis is bitching, “ _Been_ ready for decades.”

Louis gasps even though he should have expected it and clutches onto Harry’s shoulders. The stretch of it hurts in the best possible way, even though they literally had sex two days ago.

“How do you always feel so good?” Harry asks. He stops once he’s all the way in and brushes Louis’ hair off of his face.

“Best arse in France,” Louis says, slipping his hands down Harry’s back. It startles a laugh out of Harry. Louis smiles back and holds on as Harry starts moving.

“You wanna have pancakes or waffles for breakfast?” Harry asks, punching the words out in between thrusts.

“This is what the sex has come to, talking about what we’re gonna eat for breakfast?” Louis manages. He’s already having a hard time concentrating on anything other than Harry’s cock filling him up. 

“I just,” Harry starts. There’s sweat dripping down towards his eye, so Louis wipes it away helpfully. “I wanna take care of you.”

Louis’ gut clenches. Maybe it’s getting closer to the next stage of the plan then Louis thought. “You’re taking care of me right now.” His orgasm is building with each steady thrust against his prostate. It’s not going to take much more for him to come.

Harry stops, though, holding himself above Louis easily. His necklace is hitting Louis on the chin. Louis reaches up and unclasps it, lets it pool on his own chest.

“Just for the week,” Harry says, pleading expression on his dumb face. “Lemme feed you and kiss you and hold you and just. Let’s be together for the week.”

He’s asking for something that Louis shouldn’t give him. “I dunno if that’s a good idea.” More like Louis knows that it’s a terrible idea.

Harry’s face gets frustrated fast. “It’s not that different from when we’re at home.”

It is different, actually, but Louis doesn’t know how to say that without starting a fight so he just doesn’t say anything. Harry’s face shifts through expressions too fast for Louis to catch them all before it settles on determined. Louis doesn’t even have time to worry about it before Harry starts moving again, tilting Louis’ hips up and thrusting hard and fast, nailing his prostate with every stroke.

Louis is whimpering before he even registers it, high and thready. Harry’s necklace slips off of him onto the mattress, bound to be lost in the sheets until the morning.

“You wanna come?” Harry asks. Louis’ not entirely sure what the right answer for that is, because yes, obviously he wants to come, but something in Harry’s tone stops him from opening his mouth.

Instead he rakes his nails down Harry’s back and clenches down on him. It’s enough of an answer to get Harry to close his fingers around his cock and start jerking him off, firm and exactly how Louis likes it.

It barely takes three more thrusts before Louis is coming, mouth open and gasping out little sounds that might be words. Louis isn’t even sure.

He is sure that it was a good orgasm, though. He can’t even find it in himself to care when Harry wipes his hand off on Louis’ side and keeps going, not even easing up for a second.

Harry’s got an insane rhythm going on, lower lip clenched between his teeth as he concentrates on keeping it. Louis knows him, though, for better or worse, and he knows what Harry’s trying to show him. He’s still kind of stupid from his orgasm, so he brushes his fingers over Harry’s face, tracing the set of his jaw until Harry focuses on him instead of keeping his rhythm.

“You don’t have to prove that you’re capable of taking care of me, babe,” Louis murmurs. He can feel Harry’s knot forming against him, almost ready to push in. The threat of it is enough to have Louis fully hard again.

“Just for a week,” Harry says desperately. He rocks his hips a little slower, easing his knot into Louis’ body much more gently than he normally does. “Just lemme take care of you for a week. Baby. Please.”

There’s only one thing that Louis can think of to wipe that slightly sad look off of Harry’s face, even if it is a terrible idea, so he agrees and lets Harry kiss him again as his knot settles properly into Louis’ body.

“Gonna make you the happiest boy in the world,” Harry promises, circling his fingers around Louis’ cock and jerking him off again. “No one else is ever gonna be able to make you as happy as I do, no one ever makes me as happy as you do, I - ” Louis loses the rest of it to his orgasm, shivering through it in Harry’s arms. He’s distantly aware of the wetness of Harry’s come pulsing into him.

It’s an intense orgasm, one that leaves him a little shuddery even after it’s passed. He lets his eyes drift closed and hopes that Harry didn’t say what he thinks he did. It’s not that he doesn’t want to hear it - it’s the thing that he wants to hear most in the world - or even that he doesn’t already know, but he just needs a little bit more time. The next step of the plan isn’t ready yet.

Harry’s face is tucked into his shoulder as he comes into Louis’ body. Louis’ toes are getting a little numb, so he wiggles them a little, trying to get some feeling back into them. He can’t ignore the dampness being pressed into his skin for any longer, though.

“Let’s have pancakes and waffles for breakfast,” he says. It’s the only thing he can think of to say, still too spacey to really think about it. He slips his fingers through the sweat on Harry’s back. “There’s cream, yeah? So with homemade whipped cream and strawberries. Maybe even peanut butter banana pancakes, what do you think?”

Harry doesn’t lift his head, but Louis can feel the beginnings of his smile when he answers, “I saw this recipe for whole wheat oatmeal pancakes.”

Louis licks his lips as Harry’s knot shifts and presses against an even better part of him. “I thought you wanted to take care of me, not kill me.”

Harry moves, then, and they’re kissing again, long and languid, until Harry’s knot goes down enough for him to pull out. Louis is tired. He feels like he could sleep for a week.

“I think that counts as you losing,” Harry says. Louis jerks upright, muscles protesting, and holds a pillow down over Harry’s face for as long as he can.

It’s not long, because Harry’s perfectly capable of wrestling him off, which he does. “I didn’t lose,” Louis hisses, pinching at every part of Harry’s body that he can reach until Harry grabs both of his hands and holds them together.

“You lost, Tommo,” he says, shit-eating grin on his face. “Don’t be a sore loser, now.”

Louis slumps back into the pillows and spreads himself out as much as he can. If Harry thinks that he’s going to get to sleep in this bed after pulling a stunt like that he’s going to be real surprised. “Well if I lost you’re not sleeping here tonight,” he announces.

“I don’t know how you think you’re going to be able to stop me,” Harry says. He looks pointedly at where he’s still holding Louis’ wrists.

“I’ll wait until you fall asleep and then I’ll push you out of the bed,” Louis says. “Maybe I’ll even put your hand in warm water and see if you piss yourself.”

Harry’s smiling like he doesn’t believe any of it. “I’d like to see you do all that when you’re about five seconds away from falling asleep.”

He’s right. Louis is actually about five seconds away from falling asleep, so he lets his eyes close and goes boneless, letting his body sink into the mattress. Harry lets him go after a minute and slips into the sliver of space Louis’ left on the mattress, curling them close together. Louis doesn’t say anything else as he starts to drift off. He always wakes up a couple hours after he gets to sleep wanting a glass of water. That’ll be the perfect opportunity to see if Harry will piss himself.

 

Harry doesn’t piss himself. He doesn’t wake up when Louis puts his hand in the water, so Louis leaves it there and brings the laptop into the bed and watches _21 Jump Street_ as stealthily as he can - which is to say that he turns the follow up to full blast and skips ahead to the loudest car chase scene.

That ends up being the thing that wakes Harry up, and the laptop nearly gets cracked in half in Louis’ struggle not to get tossed over Harry’s shoulder and dumped into the shower.

He loses the struggle, of course, but Harry only leaves him there for a minute by himself before he comes back with his shampoo, and then he washes Louis’ hair and gives him a head massage, so. He’ll take what he can get.

 

The rest of the week passes in a haze of really good food and really good sex. They get caught up on _Game of Thrones_ and play a vicious round of Monopoly that ends in Louis flipping the board over and tackling Harry to the ground after he goes bankrupt on the second time around the board.

It’s the first time that Louis has managed to forget about the plan in over three years, even though he doesn’t manage to completely forget about it. It’s always there, in the back of his head, worrying that he’s fucking things up by not being omega enough.

This is his holiday, though, the first real holiday that they’ve had in who even knows how long. Louis deserves this. He deserves to take a break.

Plus Harry already promised not to let anything that happens here affect their relationship, and if he’s lying Louis will just rip out all of his hair with his bare hands.

 

 

Louis is tired and sick and he doesn’t want to get out of bed to go to soundcheck. They don’t really need him for it, anyway, countless shows into the tour, plus this is the second night that they’ve played Hershey. Niall can do the checks on Louis’ mic. 

He’s about to roll over and text Niall his instructions when the curtain on his bunk is pushed open and Harry leans over him with a cup of tea in his hand, steam still wafting off of it.

Louis closes his eyes and struggles back onto his side, facing away from Harry. He wants the tea but he doesn’t want it from Harry. Maybe Harry will disappear and leave the tea behind. Louis likes that idea.

“You can’t honestly still be mad at me,” Harry says, but he sounds entirely too amused to be taking this seriously. Louis closes his eyes tighter and grips his blankets. Harry isn’t above ripping them off if he thinks it’ll get Louis out of bed.

“I hope you die in a ditch,” Louis mumbles.

Harry laughs. Louis can still smell the tea, laced with honey for his throat, and he wants it badly enough that his fingers feel a little itchy. He hasn’t had tea in nearly three hours.

“You do realize that you’re the one that kissed me, right?” Harry asks. “I told you that you were going to get sick, but you didn’t listen to me.”

Louis contemplates abandoning the plan and finding someone else he can trick into doing his bidding for the rest of his life. He’s spent three years getting it into place, but that’s alright. Now he knows what not to do with the next person. He’s worked out all of the glitches.

“You said that you’d feel better if I let you finger me a little,” Louis says accusingly. He sniffles, trying not to get any more snot onto his pillowcase. He really doesn’t have the energy to wash it and tonight’s another bus night.

He could always make Harry wash it, though. “Well, I mean, it worked, didn’t it?” Harry asks. “I started feeling better. And you didn’t have to kiss me just because I was fingering you.”

Louis opens his eyes just so he can roll them. “Uh, yes I did.” His nose drips. He’s definitely going to make Harry change his sheets after the show. Harry owes it to him for getting him sick.

The smell of tea gets closer. “It’s time for soundcheck,” Harry says, completely changing the subject. Good. It’s an argument that he’s never going to win.

Louis rolls over onto his back and takes the cup. It’s cool enough that he can sip at it without burning himself, and it goes down easily. His voice isn’t as bad as it was a couple of hours ago, and he’ll be alright to sing tonight, but that doesn’t mean that he’s not going to milk it in the meantime.

“I’m not going to soundcheck,” Louis says, once half the cup is in him. His voice is sounding better by the minute, and clearly Harry knows it.

“You’re going to soundcheck,” he says. His tone is non-negotiable. 

Louis is going to negotiate anyway.

“I’m not,” he says stubbornly. He drains the rest of the cup and tosses it out of the bunk, uncaring of whether it breaks or not. Harry turns to look at where it lands, frowning.

“You don’t get to be a dick just because you’re sick,” he says. “What if someone steps on the shards of that cup?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Do you know how many times I’ve thrown that cup? It’s like, half plastic. It’s never going to break. It’s indestructible. It’s indestro-cup.”

Harry’s face is unamused. “Are you done?” he asks. “You know I’m not leaving until you get out of bed and get dressed.”

Louis coughs wetly, not bothering to cover his mouth. Hopefully his spit’ll get in Harry’s face and get him sick again. It can be a never ending cycle of them getting each other sick until one of them dies. It’ll probably be Harry. His immune system sucks.

Louis will shave off Harry’s hair and wear it around as a wig signifying his superiority. Harry has it coming.

“Well you’re going to be waiting for a long time, because I’m not getting out of this bed until it’s five minutes to showtime and I have no time left to waste.”

He pulls the blankets up over his shoulders again, hoping to make his point. He actually does want to go back to sleep. Maybe if he uses the big wet eyes Harry will leave him alone.

Just as he’s about to pull them out, Harry’s hand lands on his stomach, just above his belly button. Louis blinks and forgets to open his mouth. The problem with having had sex with Harry multiple times is that he’s conditioned his body to always want it, even when Louis legitimately feels like he might throw up if he moves too fast.

“You’re going to be a good boy, get up and do soundcheck, and after I’ll make you more tea and give you a head rub until it’s time to do the show,” Harry says. Louis doesn’t stop him as he flips the blankets to the end of the bed, exposing Louis’ poor sick body to the cold.

“I’m not doing it unless you give me a piggyback ride wherever I want to go,” Louis says, because he can’t have Harry thinking that he’s won, even when he more or less has.

Harry rolls his eyes. “Like I wasn’t already planning on giving you one,” he mutters. Louis cracks a smile and lets Harry pull him out of the bunk.

 

There’s a girl backstage. She’s pretty, around their age, and definitely not a fan. Louis has no idea where she’s come from or what she’s doing here, but he hates her.

Zayn nudges him with his elbow. “She’s not gonna disappear no matter how long you glare at her.”

Louis doesn’t look away from her. “I’m trying to murder her with my brain,” he says tightly. It’s not something that he would normally admit to so easily, but it’s Zayn and Louis is sick. Zayn’s probably heard more of his elaborate murder fantasies than anyone else in Louis’ life. He usually has something creative to add when Louis inevitably gets stuck.

“And you’re not trying to murder Harry with your brain because?” Zayn asks. Louis doesn’t flinch. Sometimes he thinks that Zayn’s the most perceptive person in the world. It’s not a surprise that he knows why Louis is thinking about murdering a person he’s never met in cold blood.

“I’m going to murder Harry in real life, that’s why,” Louis answers. “I’m thinking that I’m gonna drown him in a bathtub full of boiling tea.”

“Wouldn’t you just castrate him, though, and make him live the rest of his life like that?” Zayn wonders. “It seems like a more fitting punishment for the crime.”

Louis curls himself up a little tighter. It’s really fucking cold in here and Harry’s jumper is doing fuck all to keep him warm. The blanket that Harry gave him before disappearing is even worse. 

“He promised me that he’d make me tea and give me a head rub,” Louis says. He narrows his eyes at the girl again and concentrates on making her burst into flames.

It doesn’t work. 

“I could make you tea and give you a head rub,” Zayn points out logically. 

Louis doesn’t want logic. He wants Harry to stop flirting with this dumb chick and cuddle him until Louis feels better. “He promised,” he hisses. He struggles into an upright position and pushes himself off of the couch, staggering through the crowd. Why is there always so many people backstage. 

A few people bump into him as he pushes his way through. He scowls at them and adds them to his mental list of people who need to spontaneously combust. The list is already three pages long.

One of them’s Liam, who steadies him on his feet before sending him off again, which is fine. Louis has always maintained that a little bit of being on fire would do Liam some good.

When he finally makes it to Harry and the girl what feels like a century later, Louis pokes his finger into Harry’s side as hard as he can. It’s not very hard, because Louis still feels a little weak, but his finger’s pretty pointy. It’ll have to do.

“Excuse me for a minute,” Harry says to the girl politely, before turning his attention to Louis. 

Louis doesn’t wait to be addressed before he pokes Harry again and starts talking. “I want lemon tea.” He pokes Harry again, in the same spot. Maybe it’ll bruise. “And I want another blanket. The one you gave me is shit. It’s all full of holes and it keeps scratching me. I don’t like it.”

“The one I gave you is the one your mum sent you, the one you demanded,” Harry says. “And I know for a fact that Zayn will make you tea if you ask him.”

Louis resists the urge to stomp his foot, if only because it’ll make him look like he’s throwing an omega tantrum in front of this pretty girl that Harry’s attempting to chat up. He doesn’t care about looking like an omega if it’s only Harry, because sometimes it actually helps him get what he wants, but who knows whether this girl will sell that story to the tabloids or not. She won’t be able to prove that he’s an omega, but at this point it’s the worst kept secret in the music industry.

Louis doesn’t want to flip open a magazine tomorrow and read ‘ _Louis Tomlinson of One Direction Shows His True Omega Roots_.’ He’s had enough nightmares of those headlines to last a lifetime.

“Make me tea,” he demands, digging his knuckles into Harry’s ribs. Harry grabs his hand and pulls it away, but Louis catches his wince and smiles triumphantly. Serves him right for breaking his promise.

“I think maybe you should be a little bit more respectful to people who are trying to have a conversation,” Harry says. He’s not using his alpha voice quite yet, but it’s close, and Louis fucking hates that. He knows he’s not allowed to use that voice on Louis in public.

“Oh, I should be more respectful?” Louis asks. He turns his gaze back to the girl, who’s been suspiciously quiet this entire time. Normally he’s had to shoot down at least one comment about him being a feisty little thing by now, even from people who show no indication that they don’t believe that he’s a beta.

“Don’t,” Harry warns, fingers tightening on Louis’ wrist, but it’s already too late.

“I guess you haven’t seen all the articles and fan videos about him fucking me, then,” Louis says brightly, tipping his head in Harry’s direction. “If they’re to be believed then he’s about five seconds away from claiming me, and yet here you are, trying to get yourself fucked by Harry Styles!”

Louis digs his heels in as Harry starts dragging him away, mostly uselessly. Harry’s always been stronger than him, even when they were the same size. 

“You’re probably one of the people who doesn’t believe that I’m the only person he’s ever fucked,” Louis says, getting steadily louder the farther away her horrified face becomes. “Probably think that you can just hop up on his knot and he’ll just forget about me, right?”

Harry drags him through a door, silent and grim faced, and then another, and then another, until they’re alone in a room.

Louis stops talking. Harry’s between him and the door, and Louis doesn’t regret it, exactly, but he didn’t exactly think it through, and now Harry will want to _talk about it_ , about how Louis pretty much just outed them to a girl who might sell the story to the rags and countless other people that overheard it.

Louis is going to be in so much shit come tomorrow morning.

“She wasn’t flirting with me,” Harry says. His face is controlled, no hint of what he’s thinking. 

Louis scoffs and examines his nails. There’s dirt underneath them from playing football earlier. He’ll have to ask Lou for a nail file later. “She was, but even if she wasn’t you were definitely flirting with her.”

“She’s a lesbian,” Harry says. Louis blinks and looks at him properly. “We weren’t flirting.”

Louis licks his lips and recovers. “You were flirting,” he says sharply. “Even if it wasn’t going anywhere. That was your flirting face.” 

Harry’s expression hardens. “That was my _you_ face,” he bites out. “We were talking about you.”

“No you weren’t,” Louis says instantly, but suddenly he’s not so sure. He’s seen Harry flirt with people other than him, of course he has, but now he’s having trouble picturing exactly what his face looks like when he does it.

He knows what Harry’s face looks like when he’s flirting with Louis, though, because he’s seen that face nearly every day for the past three and a half years.

“Zayn thought you were flirting with her too,” Louis says.

“It doesn’t matter what Zayn thinks!” Harry snaps, and immediately backtracks. “Well, no, of course it matters what Zayn thinks, but not for this. Fuck, it shouldn’t even matter what you think. We’re not together.”

Louis flinches. “But you’re allowed to tell me that I shouldn’t flirt with other people?” he says unevenly. “That’s the most hypocritical thing I’ve ever fucking heard.”

Harry’s quiet, thinking of a response. Louis decides that he doesn’t care and pushes past him, out the door. He’ll make his own tea and it’ll taste better than if Harry had have made it, anyway. Louis is fucking awesome and he makes the best tea.

 

By the time they go onstage, Louis is feeling better. He’s had enough tea to pep him up, and his voice doesn’t sound like a dying kitten, so that’s always a win. He’s willing to admit that he maybe overreacted.

Alright. So maybe he hogs the boys’ attention for a little bit, still a little resentful that Harry didn’t break and come to cuddle him after all. It’s not like any of the fans notice, and they end up drawn back together by the end of the first song, anyway. If Louis was really trying to avoid him he would have made Zayn switch spots with him.

So the show goes on, and Louis plays with all the boys like usual, and doesn’t try to stop his gaze landing on Harry. He’s not entirely sure that he would have been successful if he had have tried.

It means he’s breathless, partially from catching Harry’s eyes and partially because he probably shouldn’t be running around so much, for most of the show. He has to sit down a few times to catch his breath, aware of Harry’s awareness of him every time he does it.

It’s fucked up, at least a little bit. They’ve been specifically instructed to keep their public interactions to a minimum, like their PR department is scared that they’re going to start fucking onstage with thousands of teenage girls screaming all around them, so Harry isn’t really _watching_ Louis every time he coughs or takes a drink or sits down. He’s aware of it, though, and it’s practically impossible for Louis to ignore.

Louis actually does feel a little bit apologetic, but he doesn’t particularly want to say he’s sorry so instead he beelines directly for Harry after a minor coughing fit to ask for a throat lozenge. 

Harry doesn’t even hesitate before heading backstage to get one, and Louis’ eyes tear up, just the tiniest bit. It takes less than a second to blink away the wetness, and he’s back to normal by the time that Harry comes back with it, already unwrapped. It’s definitely unhygienic, but Louis already has all the germs that Harry has ever come into contact with, so he figures it can’t get worse.

The rest of the show goes pretty well.

 

Harry catches him after, before they’ve even changed clothes, dragging Louis by the elbow into a dark corner, in full view of anyone who happens to pass by. He doesn’t say anything at first, just wraps his arms around Louis’ back and hugs him tight, swaying side to side.

Louis tucks his face into Harry’s shoulder and breathes him in, sweat and deodorant. He doesn’t smell particularly good, but neither does Louis. It only makes him feel like he could cry, so he keeps his face there until it’s passed.

“I still want lemon tea,” Louis says, turning his face to the side. If he was a proper grown up he’d apologize, but he’s not and Harry’s so in tune with him that he has to know what Louis really means, anyway.

“I’ll make you an entire pot,” Harry says. Louis feels him press his mouth to the top of his head, soft and brief, and that’s how he knows he’s forgiven.

If Harry was a proper grown up he’d make Louis have a proper conversation about it, but he’s not, and Louis has ways to make it up to him without actually saying he’s sorry.

Louis doesn’t let him pull away quite yet, though. Harry’s hug is always warm and tight and just right. Louis doesn’t know how he became so good for him, exactly the right amount of fucked up to complement the ways that Louis is fucked up, but he’s thankful for it everyday.

 

 

Louis has been taking it on faith that he’ll know when it’s time to take the next step. His heart beats a little too hard in his chest every time he actually thinks about it though, because the next step involves going off of his heat suppressants, and that’s scary. That’s rest-of-your-life stuff.

The plan has always been to have Harry for the rest of his life. That’s never changed, so it’s not like it’s shocking when Louis thinks about it. It’s getting closer, though, Louis’ own version of a happily ever after, and while he’s excited it’s also scary. 

It’s not really that Louis thinks Harry’s going to find someone else. He was already half in love with Louis when Louis came up with the plan, and Louis just nudged him over. He’s never looked at anyone else the way that he looks at Louis, not once in the entire time they’ve known each other.

So it’s not really about being scared that Harry’s going to fall in love with someone else a few years down the line, and it’s not about Louis thinking that there’s someone out there who’s better for him, because there’s not. But Louis is twenty-one, and Harry’s nineteen. He’s been pushing them into this for three years, but still. _Twenty-one. Nineteen_. It’s a little bit young to have his entire future already mapped out.

The day before Louis entered the X-Factor competition, he thought that he probably wouldn’t be able to find an alpha who’d be what Louis needs him to be until he was at least twenty-six, probably even thirty. Louis is nine years ahead of where his eighteen year old self thought he’d be.

The other option is to scale the plan back. He could stop letting Harry fuck him one a week, and they could go back to how it was before, when they just wanted each other all the time but never did anything about it.

There’s a couple things wrong with that idea, though. Louis is pretty sure that Harry would get frustrated and either find someone else or do something drastic like leave the band entirely and go to live on a remote island by himself with only bananas and monkeys for company. Harry _loves_ sex. He loves opening Louis up and getting to be inside him, spilling come in Louis’ body, loves kissing Louis’ face while he does it and holding him close, that primal instinct to just seed him fulfilled.

The other problem is that Louis loves sex, too, and he’s pretty sure that he couldn’t go on indefinitely without it, not now that he knows what it feels like to have Harry inside of him, knotting him. Louis’ body was made for sex like that, and the thought of having it with anyone other than Harry is sickening.

So along with the plan it is, soaring steadily closer to the day that Louis stops taking his suppressants and binds them together in a way that’ll be hard to escape.

 

 

“You’re gonna get us caught again,” Louis gasps. He twists against the wall, trying to get better leverage to shove his hips up into Harry’s hand.

“You’re the one being noisy,” Harry hisses back, still fumbling around and trying to get Louis’ jeans open. If Louis doesn’t help him it’ll probably take another ten minutes, at which point they’ll definitely get caught, so Louis shoves Harry’s hand away and pops open the button himself before dragging the zipper down.

Harry’s hand immediately plunges in, and Louis’ moan is entirely heartfelt. He really shouldn’t be walking around commando, but in times like this it’s so fucking convenient.

“We don’t even have time for this,” Louis says, letting his head thunk back against the wall as Harry starts working him, grip firm and sure on Louis’ cock. “We - _Jesus_ \- we have to be ready in ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes, huh,” Harry says into Louis’ mouth. He strokes a little faster. “ _I_ don’t have time, then. You have time to get off twice and still be presentable.”

“That’s a bad idea,” Louis says immediately. It is. It’s a terrible idea, actually, because two orgasms always make Louis a little spacey for a while. He’ll be presentable, sure, because Harry wouldn’t actually send him out there with like, come stains or anything, but he’ll have no clue what’s going on.

“You saying you don’t want to?” Harry asks, biting the words into Louis’ lower lip. Louis opens up for him, because when is he ever _not_ going to let Harry kiss him, and sucks Harry’s tongue into his mouth.

They make out for a minute, heavy and wet, while Louis gets jerked off in a dingy bathroom by the only person who’s ever touched him like that.

When Harry stops kissing him Louis makes a tiny little protesting noise and leans forward, nearly slipping out of his precarious position. Harry grunts and adjusts his hand underneath Louis’ arse, pulling him back up. It makes Louis suddenly aware of Harry’s fingers digging into the crease of his bum, trying to pull his cheeks apart even though Louis is wearing jeans and there’s really nowhere that can go.

“So that’s a no to two orgasms, then?” Harry murmurs. His fingers slow on Louis’ cock, rubbing firmly over the head. “Don’t wanna go out there all flushed and pretty and have everyone knowing that you just got off?”

“Everyone’s gonna know that I just got off even if I only come once,” Louis points out, breathing a little shakily. “Just don’t wanna go out there all glazed and trance-y.”

Harry starts jerking him off properly again, quick and hard. Louis swallows and tilts his hips into it. “I’d take care of you,” Harry says. “Wouldn’t let anything happen to you. Never let anything happen to you.”

“Fuck,” Louis says, right into Harry’s mouth as he kisses him again, and comes into Harry’s fist. Harry doesn’t let go, using Louis’ come to help smooth his strokes.

“You gonna let me get you off twice even though you know you shouldn’t?” Harry asks. “Gonna let me take you out there all pink and quiet?” 

Louis wants to. He wants to let Harry lead him out to the car after he’s had two orgasms and curl up into Harry’s side during the ride, wants to let Harry put a hand on his lower back and tell him where to go because Louis wouldn’t be able to figure it out, otherwise.

One of them has to be the responsible one, though, and clearly it’s not going to be Harry.

“Not today, babe,” Louis says. Harry strokes him a few more times, gathering up Louis’ come the best that he can, cleaning him off. He leans back in and kisses Louis, soft and gentle, the way Louis likes to be kissed after he’s come.

“Are you gonna include that one in your count?” Harry asks. A jolt of electricity courses through Louis’ spine, followed by the vague thought that something about that statement _isn’t right_ , but then Harry kisses him again as he tucks Louis’ cock back into his jeans and it’s gone as quickly as it came.

It was probably nothing.

 

 

Louis starts orchestrating the second time a week and a half after the first time. It gives their handlers enough time to calm down and start believing that it was a one off, a mistake made in the heat of the moment. It also gives Harry enough time to come back from his week of exile and start getting back into the swing of things, but not too long that he starts to forget the way Louis felt around him, hot and wet, clenching down around his knot.

It doesn’t take as much work as Louis thought it would. People are way too trusting of him, especially because Louis has never done anything to deserve it. Seems like running around getting into trouble, pulling pranks on people and lying to everyone about being a beta makes him trustworthy. Who would’ve thought.

He pulls back from all the boys for a couple of days, spends more time by himself, locks himself away in his hotel room, makes sure that his smiles don’t meet his eyes. He avoids being the one to initiate physical contact, especially with Harry. He comes off as sad and lonely, maybe even a little depressed, and that’s perfect.

They play a show that night, and Louis ducks out from the post-show shenanigans. He goes back to the hotel and showers, ignores the vibrating of his phone. He left with Patty, so it’s not like no one knows where he is.

A loud rap comes on the door almost the minute Louis steps out of the shower. He smirks a little as he grabs a towel to wrap around his waist. He literally couldn’t have planned it better. Everything’s falling into place down to the exact second.

He pulls the door open with water still running down his chest, cheeks flushed from how hot he had the water going. It was hot nearly to the point of painful, much hotter than he usually takes his showers, but it’s so worth it for the way Harry’s lips part and his eyes darken.

“You disappeared,” Harry says. His voice is much rougher than it normally is. Louis makes himself smaller, lets his shoulders curve into towards his chest. It’ll make a pretty picture.

“Tired,” Louis says. He lets go of the door and walks back into the room towards his suitcase. He doesn’t invite Harry in. It has to be Harry’s choice, Harry’s idea to step into the room, because if Louis initiates it Harry will always know, always have some inkling that maybe this wasn’t as spontaneous as it seemed.

The door snicks closed quietly. Louis allows himself a small smile, down towards the ground where he’s sure Harry can’t see it. He settles down onto his knees in front of his bag, digging through it for much longer than necessary. The clothes that he wants are already on the top, but no one needs to know that.

“You - ” Harry says thickly. Louis can feel the heat of his gaze on his bare back. It makes him flush a little more, unable to control it. It’s the omega trait that Louis hates the most, which of course means that it’s the one he’s most aware of around Harry. “You’ve been off the past couple days.”

Louis tenses a little. He doesn’t mean to, but he’s pretty sure that it makes his body look nice, so he doesn’t mind. “My singing?” he asks sharply. He clears his throat and softens his tone a little. Good omegas don’t use that tone, and Louis needs to be a good omega for Harry. “I thought I was doing okay.”

“No! No, you sound - you always sound amazing,” Harry says. Louis relaxes and pushes himself back to his feet, clothes firmly in hand. “I could spend ages listening to you.”

Louis turns back around and swallows. Harry’s looking at him, dark and focused, like having Louis in the same room with him half naked is all he cares about right now. Louis’ cock is so very interested in that, thickening up just the tiniest bit underneath his towel, and it won’t take long before the rest of him gets interested, too.

Louis holds a finger up in the air and makes a twirling motion. Harry licks his lips, looks like he’s thinking about refusing. Louis breathes out unsteadily, almost wobbling on his feet, thinking about Harry refusing to turn around, about Harry making him drop the towel and change in front of him, of Harry looking his fill at Louis’ body, at the first body he ever popped a knot in.

Harry turns, though, reluctantly, and Louis drags the shirt on over his head and the boxers up over his legs as fast as he can, because he doesn’t trust Harry not to turn around and pin Louis with that look again while he’s naked.

Louis would give it up for him in less than three seconds, which is the entire problem. Good omegas aren’t so easy for an alpha until that alpha is _their_ alpha. Louis has a lot riding on his ability to be a good omega.

“”m done,” Louis says quietly. He flops down onto the bed, heart still beating fast in his chest. Harry can hear it, probably, but even good omegas get turned on.

Louis wiggles around and lies back against the pillows, flipping the telly on. Harry’s still looking at him. Louis’ practically pinned to the bed with the heat of his gaze. He’s not sure that he could get up right now if Harry didn’t let him, even if he wanted to.

Harry crosses the room and settles down on bed beside Louis, feet planted firmly on the ground. “You’ve been quiet lately,” he says. His voice is back to normal.

Mostly. There’s still a rasp in it that doesn’t seem to want to go away. “Well, I did suddenly have the fact that I’m an omega exposed to literally everyone that I work with,” Louis says.

“You got caught in a lie,” Harry murmurs. Louis’ gaze snaps to his face, panicked and open.

Luckily, Harry’s not looking at his face. He’s looking at the tiny sliver of skin that’s exposed where Louis’ shirt has ridden up. He puts his hand there, big and warm even through Louis’ shirt.

Louis shivers and fights to stay very still. “I lied to protect myself,” he says. It’s mostly true, even if it doesn’t feel that way, not anymore.

“Don’t have to protect yourself any more,” Harry says. Louis’ breath catches in his throat. That. That sounds like something that an alpha would say to their omega.

Harry’s fingers slip underneath the hem of Louis’ shirt. Louis puts his hand on top of Harry’s, stilling it. “What’re you doing,” he says. His voice cracks embarrassingly. 

Harry’s gaze lifts up to Louis’ face, raking over his body as he goes. It’s hot, it’s so fucking hot. Louis is getting wet already, just from the barest hint of Harry’s hand on his skin.

“I’m taking care of you,” Harry says. He rubs his knuckles against Louis’ belly. Louis bites back a whimper and holds Harry’s hand down harder, trying to still it. “Don’t you want me to take care of you?”

That’s more or less what Louis has been working towards for the better part of three and a half years. It’s too fast, though, too soon for Harry to be saying these things, for him to be taking care of Louis before Louis has gotten them tangled up together enough that neither of them will be able to walk away.

“It’s not that simple,” Louis says. He flicks his hair out of his eyes with his free hand. Harry watches him, eyes fixed on Louis’ face like he’s trying to memorize it.

“Just let me see you a little, yeah? I didn’t get to see you properly last time,” Harry says, neatly avoiding what Louis is saying. Louis finds himself nodding dumbly and letting Harry’s hand push his shirt up until it’s bunched up into his armpits.

Louis’ head is swimming with Harry’s pheromones, with his own lust. He doesn’t remember whether he should be letting this happen right now or not.

He’s too weak to stop it, though, arse slicking up his pants, cock leaking steadily. He watches Harry rub a single finger around his belly button, dragging it up slowly until it reaches his nipples. 

“You’re so pretty,” Harry’s saying. He rubs his finger over Louis’ left nipple, not hard but not carefully, either. Louis arches up into the touch, trying not to whimper. “Are you gonna let me see the rest of you, baby?”

Louis doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything as Harry strips him of his boxers. His cock’s fully hard now, curving up towards his belly and wet at the head. “Jesus, you’re the prettiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” Harry says. His hand catches Louis’ cock in a firm grip, twisting down it slowly. Louis throws his arm up over his face and bites down on his wrist.

He jacks Louis off like that, slow and tight. Louis squeezes his eyes closed and does his best not to whimper pathetically into his arm. He’s maybe not so successful.

“Let’s see the rest of your lovely body,” Harry says. It sounds like it’s coming through a long tunnel, faint and echo-y. Or maybe that’s just Louis’ hearing.

Louis goes easily when Harry turns him over, burying his face into the pillow. His shirt’s all but strangling him, but that’s so easy to forget about when Harry’s hands settle on his arse cheeks and pull him apart.

“You’re so wet,” Harry says heavily, like the words pain him even as he says them. “You - is this for me?”

Louis chokes out an agreement into the pillow. He hasn’t even gotten wet to the thought of anyone else since they met, too fucked up and focused on Harry, and he especially hasn’t gotten wet to the thought of anyone else since Harry triggered his heat.

Harry’s hand comes down hard on his arse, sharp and stinging. Louis gasps into the pillow, already damp with his spit. “I asked you a question,” he says firmly. “I want to hear your answer.”

Louis turns his head and says, “it’s for you, it’s always for you, please just - ” Harry’s hand comes down again, not as sharp but still implacable, like he wants Louis to be feeling him for days.

Louis’ hole clenches. “That’s enough,” Harry says. “I just. I need you to be quiet for a minute. Can you do that for me, baby?” 

Louis nods dumbly. There’s sweat in his eyelashes, slipping down the back of his neck. He holds still and stays as quiet as possible for Harry, but it’s so fucking hard when Harry’s gone back to holding him open, just looking at the wetness Louis has produced because of him. For him.

This is already so different from the first time that Louis can barely breathe with it. The first time - it was amazing, Louis came three times on Harry’s knot alone, but Harry had been inexperienced, unsure of what he was doing. He’d let Louis take the lead, even if he wasn’t aware that he was doing it.

Louis doesn’t understand how he’s become _this_ in eleven days, this confident, take charge alpha. Maybe he’s always been this way and Louis has just never noticed, too caught up in being his usual pushy self to notice Harry directing him, guiding him.

“I’m going to put my fingers in you,” Harry says suddenly. Louis is practically on fire, can’t stop the whimper from making its way past his lips. “D’you want that?”

“Yes, Harry, please, I want that,” Louis says. He claws at the sheets as Harry pushes two fingers into him, thought that Harry would take it easy on him and give him one to start with, but this, this is so good, like Harry knows exactly what Louis needs.

He fucks Louis with two fingers, deep and thorough. “You’re so _loud_ ,” he says, and all of a sudden Louis can hear himself, gasping and moaning, biting out half formed words and trying to screw back onto Harry’s fingers to get more of them.

Louis flushes even more and turns his face back into the pillow, trying to hold the noises in. Good omegas aren’t _loud_. Good omegas get fucked and whimper for it prettily, quietly. Louis needs to be a good omega.

Harry pushes his fingers in hard, pressing against Louis’ prostate for several long seconds. Louis bites his lip and keeps his eyes closed, tries not to notice the wetness he can feel leaking out of the corner of them.

Harry’s mouth presses against the skin behind Louis’ ear suddenly, hot and wet. “Why’re you so quiet all of a sudden?” he asks. “Like the way you sound when you’re loud.” He adds a third finger, scissoring them quickly.

Louis moans, loud and high. “There you are,” Harry says. He bites down on the lobe of Louis’ ear. “That’s my good boy.” 

Louis comes unexpectedly. Harry wiggles a hand down between Louis’ hips and the mattress and rubs him through it, fingers slipping through the mess of Louis’ come. His fingers press insistently against Louis’ prostate. Louis’ cock starts filling up again almost instantly.

“I’m gonna fuck you now, okay?” Harry says. He doesn’t wait for an answer before he’s pulling his fingers out of Louis’ hole. He strips Louis out of his shirt quickly, tossing them off the side of the bed. Louis presses his face back into the pillow and waits for what feels like ages while Harry rids himself of his own clothes.

“Yes,” he says, a minute late. He flexes his fingers and wiggles his toes, waits impatiently for the press of Harry’s cock against his rim.

“Hey,” Harry says, instead of lining himself up. Louis turns his head to the side that Harry’s face is on. Now that he’s had one orgasm it doesn’t feel as frantic, like he needs to get a cock in him or he’ll die, but he’d still like that to be happening sometime this century.

“What,” Louis says. He misjudges a little, so he ends up mostly saying it into Harry’s jaw, but that’s fine because it makes Harry kiss him, tonguing wetly into Louis’ mouth.

“You are my good boy, you know that, right?” Harry asks, once the kiss has broken.

Louis’ cock jerks and spits out a little pre-come. He pushes his face back into the pillow, canting his hips up. Harry inhales sharply, probably at the feel of Louis’ arse pushing into his cock, before shoving Louis’ hips back down.

He presses his cock up against the rim of Louis’ hole and starts pushing in, big and inescapable. Louis flails a hand around on the bed until he finds Harry’s, whimpering out little noises as Harry splits him open.

Harry takes the hint and laces their fingers together, still pressing in, until he’s as deep as he can get. “So good for me,” Harry groans. He stays there, hips pressed against Louis’ bum, for a minute, and Louis gets used to the feeling of having a real cock in his arse for the second time in his life.

He starts moving his hips, fucking into Louis sweet and steady, like he knows that Louis is hurting just a little and doesn’t want to make it any worse until Louis’ body is used to it. 

“You wouldn’t be this good for any other alpha, would you,” Harry murmurs. Louis squeezes his fingers and gasps a little as Harry pulls nearly all the way out before dicking back in, just the once before his knots starts swelling up inside of Louis. “Wouldn’t be a good boy for any alpha but me.”

“Not a good boy,” Louis slurs. His grip on Harry’s fingers has gone limp, and he’s about to come again.

“Not a good boy for other people,” Harry corrects. His knot locks inside of Louis’ body, and Louis comes, cock spurting onto the mattress, adding to the mess. It still hurts, inside where Harry is, but it’s a good hurt, ache-y and tender.

Harry starts coming, slicking up Louis’ insides, and that makes the ache better, somehow. “Not a good boy,” Louis slurs out again, not even sure why he’s saying it, just can’t stop himself. He’s tired and he hurts and he wants to come again, already, but doesn’t want to work for it. “Bad boy. Bad omega.”

“Best omega,” Harry says. He bites Louis’ jaw, sucking on it, until Louis is sure that there’s going to be a dark bruise there in a few hours. “Never a bad thing to only be a good boy for me.” He tips Louis’ head and kisses him again. Louis sighs into it and comes again, weakly.

He keeps the kiss up as he finishes coming, knot softening inside Louis’ body. Louis lets him, lets him push his tongue into Louis’ mouth. It’s an awkward angle, and it makes his neck start to hurt after a minute, but it’s okay. Everything’s okay.

Louis is mostly asleep by the time Harry’s knot has gone down enough for him to pull out, courtesy of three orgasms. He makes vague protesting noises as Harry rolls him out of the wet spot, wiping him down efficiently with a wet cloth.

He can feel Harry’s unease, so he pries his eyes open with effort to look at him. Harry’s sitting on the edge of the bed, still naked, but that’s no surprise. This is the kid who strips at the drop of a hat, so.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Harry says, once he’s aware Louis is looking at him. “I’m sorry. I should have asked you before - before any of that.” 

Louis is wide awake now. He sits up and swings his legs off the bed, pushing himself up unsteadily. Harry puts a hand on the small of his back until Louis has gained his balance, which makes it so much worse. “Don’t worry about it,” Louis says, and slams the door behind himself when he gets into the bathroom. The sex was better than anything Louis has ever imagined before, even when he thought about the perfect-for-him alpha fucking him ten years down the line and knowing exactly what Louis likes, what Louis needs, and giving it to him.

Harry should _know_ that what he’s giving Louis is perfect. He shouldn’t be apologizing for giving Louis what he needs.

He gives himself five minutes to cry in the shower before he goes about washing himself, trying to get all of Harry’s come out of his body.

It’s just a set-back to the plan.

 

After the second time, Harry forces Liam to be part of a conversation in which he makes Louis promise to do his best not to let it happen again. Harry makes the same promise, of course, and he even says it first, before he asks for Louis’ agreement, but Louis goes away from it with a sick clenching in his stomach.

Louis has made plans upon plans upon plans, imagined different scenarios and decided what he was going to do for each of them, but he never imagined this. He never imagined Harry brushing him off and all but ignoring him for days, like he’s pretending that he’s never been inside Louis’ body, like he’s pretending that he’s never pushed Louis down into a mattress and called him his good boy until Louis came all over the sheets.

Louis spirals wildly. There’s really no other way to describe it. He ignores Harry right back, flinches out from underneath the sparing touches Harry decides to give him, gets his cuddles from Niall and Liam and Zayn instead. He sucks on a lot of phallic shaped objects, blinks up at cute boys when they talk to him from underneath his eyelashes.

He flirts with alphas bigger than him in plain sight of Harry, lets them grip him by the wrist and touch him on his lower back, just above the curve of his bum. That’s probably what ends up doing it.

He’s doing it right now, backstage after a show with some random alpha that he’s never met before. The dude’s everything that Louis has never wanted in an alpha - big and meaty and leering at Louis like he’s just a pretty toy to put on his dick. The entire conversation so far has been filled with badly chosen innuendos, and Louis desperately wants to escape.

He knows what he looks like, small and twink-y, and now that their entire crew knows that he’s an omega it’s like all the beefy, nasty alphas out there have made it their mission to try to get him onto their dicks, like having some people know means that the rest of the alphas can just sense it. This guy is third one that’s hit on Louis since they came off stage thirty minutes ago. He really needs to talk to Paul about setting up a crew only backstage area.

A heavy arm settles around his shoulders out of nowhere. “Having fun, baby?” Harry asks, voice deep and not pleased. 

It makes the omega in Louis cringe, because it’s so obviously not pleased _with him_ , but Louis straightens out his shoulders and says, “Yeah, Mark here was just telling me about this really cool artwork he has at his house. He wants me to come and see it, says his house is only a few blocks away. Awesome, right?”

Harry doesn’t bother with a reply before pulling Louis away. They don’t go far, mainly because there’s not really anywhere to go with Paul watching them like a hawk, but Harry finds a quiet corner and shoves Louis into it.

“You can’t act like this,” Harry says tightly. Louis wiggles around uncomfortably, trying to find a place where it doesn’t feel like his shoulder blades are going to get all scraped up by the rough wall. He has sensitive skin.

“I can act however I want to act,” he says. “S’not like it matters to you, anyway. We’re not going to let it happen again, remember? So why shouldn’t I find an alpha now that you’re not giving me what I need?”

Harry’s fingers close around Louis’ wrists before Louis even thinks to move. “You’re not being a good boy,” he says grimly. 

Louis just. He sees red, or something. He’s so angry that he can’t find any words in the time it takes him to yank his hands out of Harry’s grip and shove him away. He blinks the wetness out of his eyes and starts to make his way out of the room.

He can feel Harry behind him, catching up, so he spins around and shoves at Harry’s chest again, as hard as he can. It knocks Harry back a step or two. “Go fuck yourself!” he screams, shoving at Harry again. “Don’t touch me, don’t ever touch me again you fucking dickhead!”

Harry catches his wrists again, but Louis is incensed. He rips them away and hits Harry with balled up fists, wherever he can reach. He’s still screaming, doesn’t even know what anymore, hazily aware that he’s crying.

By the time that security gets them apart the entire room has gone silent, staring. Louis doesn’t want to look around and see how many cameras caught the fight. He spins on his heel and walks out without saying another word.

 

Louis blinks his eyes open and checks his phone. It’s 3:17 AM. He has sixteen texts and five voicemails, countless emails. He tosses the phone back down and takes a sip out of the glass of water on the table.

He doesn’t know what woke him up until he sees Harry standing at the foot of the bed. He doesn’t jump, but it’s a near thing.

“How did you get in here?” he asks. He clears his throat in an attempt to get some of the sleep out of it.

“Stole the key from Paul,” Harry says. Louis drags the blankets up over his shoulders. It’s cold in the room with the air conditioning on but also that way Harry won’t be able to look at him half naked. He’s not sure that he wants to have this conversation when Harry could be looking at his bare chest.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Louis says. He feels like he could fall asleep again easily, but that’s not a good idea with Harry here, especially not with Harry between him and the door. Not when everything Louis has been working for is falling apart right in front of his eyes.

“And you shouldn’t be such a bad boy, but yet,” Harry says. 

Louis sits up. He doesn’t want to have this conversation. He doesn’t want to care if Harry thinks that he’s bad. He reaches out for his phone again and unlocks it. Pulls up Paul’s number.

Hesitates. “You don’t get to care about whether I’m a good omega or not,” he says, finger still hovering over the call button. 

“You’re a great omega,” Harry says easily. Louis’ finger falls to the side of the phone. “Sometimes you’re just not a good boy.” 

“You said I was a good boy,” Louis says. It feels like the words are just being ripped out of him. God, if this was anyone but Harry the words never would have come out. Louis would have been able to hold them back. With Harry it’s like his filter is destroyed, and that’s very worrying for the plan.

Harry sits down on the bed, close enough to Louis’ feet that Louis can feel the heat of his body. “When you’re with me you’re such a good boy,” he says. He sounds almost wistful. Nothing he’s saying makes any sense.

“The only person that I’m worse with is Zayn,” Louis says. Harry’s fingers curl around his ankle, over the sheets. “The amount of trouble that we get into when we’re together is ridiculous, Harry.”

“Not like that,” Harry says. He ducks his head and watches the flex of his fingers over Louis’ leg.

“Like what, then?” Louis demands. He doesn’t care about his tone anymore, not when there’s so much going on that he doesn’t understand.

“It’s like,” Harry starts. He hesitates for a second and squeezes Louis’ leg. “It doesn’t matter what you’re like with other people, whether you’re a good boy for them or not. It makes it better, sometimes, knowing that no matter how much of a menace you are to everyone else you’re always good for me, good to me.”

Louis keeps his mouth shut. He’s not good, neither for Harry or to him. If he was good he wouldn’t have been trying to make this happen for so long, or he at least would have been honest about it.

Louis is pretty much the definition of _not good_ , and he doesn’t mind that. Likes it, even, that it sets him apart from other omegas, the stereotypical ones.

Harry must be watching his face, because he says, “I must not be explaining this right.”

“You’re explaining it fine, Harry,” Louis sighs. “I get it, it’s weird how I act different when I’m around you. I’ll stop.” He won’t, probably, because Harry is literally the only person in the entire world he feels not weird about letting some of his more omega characteristics show to.

“It’s not weird,” Harry says. He huffs out a laugh and uses his grip on Louis’ leg to pull him down the bed. The sheets get ripped off of him along the way, still tucked into one side of the bed.

Louis yelps and flails. He nearly kicks Harry in the face, which would’ve served him right.

Harry leans over Louis, propping himself up on his elbow, and grins down at him. “Oops,” he says. 

Louis shoves at his face. “You’re not cute, don’t even start that shit.”

“Okay, well, that’s just blatantly untrue,” Harry says. He’s still grinning, necklace pooling on Louis’ bare chest. Louis never used to sleep naked. He must’ve picked it up somewhere. “You think that I’m the prettiest princess in all the land, you can’t front with me, Tomlinson.”

Louis rolls his eyes and slaps at Harry’s chest instead. It’s become apparent that Harry is unwilling to move his face and give Louis a little bit of _space_. “You’re going to get in so much shit when Paul finds you in here,” he says.

“ _So_ much shit,” Harry agrees. He stops smiling, still holding himself over Louis like it’s nothing. It might not be, considering how hard he’s been hitting the gym lately. He definitely makes Louis look bad.

Like this, Louis can picture their future, days off spent together in their bed in their house - a new one, an actual house instead of the flat that they have now so they can have dogs running around, a garage big enough for all of Harry’s stupid cars, a yard for Louis’ football pitch. They’d have sex all day, probably, until they’re both too tired for another round. Louis would kick Harry out of the bed to make some food, and Harry would come back with all of Louis’ favorites. They’d eat and have sex some more and fall asleep together. They’d be so happy.

“Don’t flirt with other alphas, alright?” Harry says softly. 

Louis lowers his eyes to Harry’s necklace. He catches it in the palm of his hand and twists it around until he can fumblingly unhook it. “You don’t get to tell me what to do if we’re not even having sex,” he says, just as softly. The necklace drops into his hand.

Harry sinks down onto the bed properly, on his side, and fishes Louis’ legs up, hooking them up over his hips. Louis inhales sharply and scrambles to pull the sheets over his bum. The last thing he needs is Paul walking in here and getting flashed by Louis’ bare arse.

The position leaves him flushed, barely any of his body covered by the flimsy sheet. He’s mostly covered by Harry, though, bigger and broader than him and between Louis and the door. Anyone who walks in is gonna see Harry, and by the time they see Louis there will have been time to cover up.

Louis relaxes and lets Harry take the necklace out of his hand. He’s expecting Harry to put it back on himself, but Harry fastens it around Louis’ neck instead.

“Don’t flirt with other alphas,” Harry repeats. His voice breaks a little. “Please.”

Louis looks at him, at how much he hates the idea of Louis being with any other alpha, even after Harry’s the one that said that they can’t be together. “Okay,” he says. Harry’s eyes are a little wet as he gathers Louis up into his arms.

Looks like the plan’s back on track.

 

 

Paul does his best to keep it quiet, but the boys find out within an hour of Louis being herded into his hotel room. Louis gets no less than fifteen texts from all of them, and Liam calls him repeatedly until Louis has to turn off his phone entirely just to make the ringing stop.

They wait until Louis has sweated his heat out, showered, gotten room service and had his sheets changed, aired the place out a bit, before they come barging in all at the same time.

Louis watches them from underneath his mound of clean blankets. He’s exhausted, right down to his very bones, and he really doesn’t want to have this conversation right now.

There’s no stopping it, though, not with Liam already twisting the locks on the door as Niall and Zayn don’t even hesitate before climbing up onto the bed with Louis.

Louis keeps quiet as they settle down around him, limbs splayed all over the place and kicking at each other for the perfect space. He ends up with Niall sprawled half on top of him and Zayn tucked up against his side, bony knee digging into Louis’ hip, and if this wasn’t always the way they are Louis would think they’re trying to prove a point.

They’re both talking, loudly and interrupting each other. Louis listens with half an ear. He’s mostly focused on Liam making his way over the bed, slowly but surely, clearly taking his time.

Louis has never worried about Niall and Zayn finding out, not really. They’re both big supporters of equal rights, and they both love Louis the same way that Louis loves them, whole-heartedly and with an edge that says they’ll fuck up anyone who tries to hurt him. Liam, though, Liam loves Louis in the same way, and Louis knows that, but there’s a reason that Liam and Louis didn’t get along at first. Louis has spent a long time convincing himself that it’s not because a subconscious part of Liam believes that omegas belong underneath alphas, being seen but not heard.

It’s a nasty thought that always seems to be lurking in the back of his head, ready to get him down when Louis is feeling vulnerable, even though he’s way past the point of believing it. 

But Liam has just found out that Louis is an omega, and he’s dragging his feet. Louis honestly doesn’t know what he’d do if he lost Liam - Niall’s like the little brother that Louis has never had, and Zayn’s his partner in crime, but Liam has been the catalyst behind Louis’ actions for so long that he can’t imagine what it’d be like without him. They’re way past the point of disliking each other like they used to, nearly as co-dependent as Louis and Harry are. Liam is the person that Louis goes to when he can’t go to Harry, and he thinks that says something big.

It’d break his heart to lose Liam.

After what feels like an eternity, Liam comes to a halt at the foot of the bed. He waits for Niall and Zayn to finish jabbering on about whatever they were saying before he opens his mouth. “You could’ve told us, you know,” he says quietly. 

Louis gnaws on the inside of his cheek and presses his fingers together firmly. “I don’t - did you not want to tell anyone because of me?” Liam asks, small and insecure.

Louis shakes his head, pressing his fingers together harder. “I know that I’m not Harry, or whatever,” Liam continues. Louis’ heart sinks even further. “But I would’ve supported you. I would’ve kept your secret.”

Louis lets go of his cheek. There’s the faint taste of metal in his mouth. He must’ve drawn blood. “Harry didn’t know either,” he says. He struggles out from underneath the blankets. “I didn’t tell anyone because I was scared, not because I thought you were gonna tell someone or some bullshit like that. You’re one of my best friends, I wanted to tell you so many times, but I just couldn’t.” 

He’s free of the blankets, finally, so he launches himself directly at Liam’s face. Liam catches him, because Liam always catches him, and Louis spares a moment to think about what it would have been like if he had have picked Liam instead.

It never would have worked, though, because even if Louis knows that he’d never be one of those alphas that Louis can’t stand, they’re really too much alike, in all the ways that count. They’re both only nurturing up until a certain point, and Louis needs someone who will cuddle him whenever Louis demands it. Mostly, though, it never would have worked because Louis needs someone who’s just as fucked up as he is, someone whose jagged edges fit Louis’, and for all intents and purposes Liam is pretty well rounded.

Liam’s arms go around Louis’ back for all of five seconds before Niall and Zayn are joining them and knocking them to the floor. That’s how Paul finds them a little bit later, still wrapped up in each other and shit talking pretty much everyone they’ve ever met because it makes Louis feel better.

Louis has the best boys in the world.

 

 

When Paul finds them, bursting into the bathroom with wide eyes, it’s already too late. Louis is already stuffed full, Harry’s knot nudging up against all the right places, naked in Harry’s lap. Louis has already come twice, but Harry’s only just getting started, warm, thick strings of come pulsing up into Louis.

Harry growls at sudden intrusion, fingers digging into Louis’ hips tightly, and manages to move them into one of the stalls. He doesn’t stop growling, teeth sharp against Louis’ throat, so Louis pets one hand over his head, scratching his scalp the way he likes it. Harry’s growling subsides, even though Paul hasn’t actually left.

“Louis, are you alright?” Paul asks. His voice is pained, like he would rather be anywhere but here, and Louis can’t blame him. He ignores Harry’s chanting, ‘ _baby, baby, babybabybaby_ ,’ into his throat, and keeps petting him.

“I - ah, fuck,” as Harry shifts to rock up into him harder, “I’m good, yeah. Just - I think he’s gonna be a while, so maybe you should leave?”

“We’ve got a medic on that way,” Paul says grimly.

“No, no, no, no, baby, no,” Harry says. He bites, hard enough to leave a mark. Louis’ fingers tighten in his hair. “Not gonna. No.”

“No,” Louis says, a little too sharply. He sucks in a breath and tries to even his tone. It’s hard to concentrate on talking to Paul when he’s got Harry snug up inside him, got the first knot he’s ever had pulsing inside him and filling him up. It’s harder to concentrate than Louis thought it would be, even though he should have suspected it, from that time that they pretend didn’t happen even though they both jerk off to it at least once a week.

“I’ve got him. It’s okay, I’ve got him. We don’t need a medic.” There can’t be a medic, because if there’s a medic - if there’s a medic then three years of planning, of waiting, go down the drain, just like that.

“The medic’s going to give him something to calm him down,” Paul says gently. Louis can feel the way that he’s pointedly not looking at them, trying to give them at least the semblance of privacy. “Once he’s down we can get him out of you, yeah?”

Harry makes a noise, broken and hurt, and slips his hands around the back of Louis’ head. His eyes are wild and desperate when they meet Louis’, pupils dilated. He looks like he might try to rip the throat out of anyone who tried to take Louis from him right now. Louis clenches down on him experimentally.

Harry’s hips come right up off of the floor, carrying Louis’ weight like it’s nothing, fucking up into him and hard and fast for five glorious seconds, before he settles back down and curls his arms around Louis’ back.

“I’m an omega,” Louis says. He watches Harry’s face as he says it, watches Harry nearly bite clean through his bottom lip even though he must have realized that by now, that that was the reason he reacted so strongly to Louis being in the same room when he went into his very first rut, that they wouldn’t be here if Louis was a beta.

“You - Jesus Christ,” Paul says.

“I’ve got him,” Louis repeats. Harry groans, deep in his throat, and crushes Louis to him, repeating his chant over and over again until it starts becoming a mantra. 

The door snicks closed behind Paul, and Louis has no doubt that he’s going to block the hall until they’re finished, do his best to keep this private.

And he will, Louis knows. For now, at least, until it gets to the point that he can’t, anymore. Louis has some work to do before that, though.

 

Paul separates them the instant they walk out of the bathroom, Harry crowding up into Louis’ back and following him blindly. Literally, the second that Louis pushes the door open Paul’s got Harry by the arm, marching him down the hallway and out of sight, leaving Louis staring after them with two of their security guys standing around uncomfortably.

Louis lets them take him to his room without complaint and eases himself down onto his bed. He manages to fall asleep almost the second that his head hits the pillow, despite the fact that he’s still wearing come stained sweatpants and how rank he smells.

It’s a long, deep sleep.

 

In the morning, Louis finds out that they sent Harry back to London on the first available flight. _They sent Harry back to London_. 

It’d be fine, it would, because Louis knew that’s what they would do. Keep them apart until Harry gets himself under control, finishes his rut, making sure that there’s no way that the bond can get deeper. Louis was _expecting it_. He’s planned his next ten moves expecting it.

Except Louis is irritable and itchy and so turned on he can barely stand it, from everything from the rasp of the hotel room sheets against his body to the pressure of the water in the shower, no matter how cold he turns it.

He doesn’t have any toys, doesn’t even have any lube, because he didn’t expect this to happen. He’s been on heat suppressants since he was twelve, when he had his first pseudo heat, and all he remembers from it is taking pills and passing out until it was over.

He’s _still_ on the pills, but yet his heat was triggered by having an alpha pop a knot in him. It’s not unheard of, but it’s rare, rare enough for Louis to think that he definitely picked the right person.

But _fuck_. Of all the times Louis has thought about Harry triggering his heat, worried about it, he never thought that this would be how it happens. Apparently all his body needs is to be put on Harry’s knot one time before it decides that it wants that dick is meant to be put in him a whole lot more.

“Shit,” Louis says, staring blankly up at the ceiling. On one hand, it means that Louis won’t have to do nearly as much work as he thought he would, what with their bodies already so reliant on each other’s, but on the other hand it means that Louis has to get through a week in heat on his own, which sounds about as pleasant as pulling off all of his fingernails with rusty pliers.

Should be fun.

 

The move that Louis intends to make when they let Harry come back turns out to be completely unnecessary, because Harry corners him in the hallway the first chance that he gets.

“Did you let anyone,” Harry asks pleadingly, mouthing down Louis’ neck. “Baby, you didn’t, you didn’t let anyone.” He hitches Louis’ legs further up his sides.

“Who the fuck was I gonna let,” Louis huffs. This isn’t actually going anywhere, considering that they have three minutes, max, before Paul figures out where they disappeared to, but Harry doesn’t seem to realize that, too focused on keeping Louis somewhere he won’t be able to escape from.

“They’re giving us separate rooms,” Harry tells Louis’ throat. Louis threads his fingers through Harry’s hair. This would be an appropriate time to tell him about triggering Louis’ heat, when he’s clearly still so focused on Louis.

Louis isn’t going to tell him for a long fucking time, though. It’s a card he’s saving for a time he really needs it.

“Yes, I heard,” he says. He closes his eyes and fights back the whine that wants to escape his throat when Harry bites down on the mark he’d made there. It’s mostly faded, after a week apart, but if Louis had to guess he’d say that it’s not going to stay that way.

“You’re not gonna let ‘em do that, right,” Harry says. It’s mostly mumbled into Louis’ skin.

Louis closes his eyes and lets his head tip back against the wall. He doesn’t have to see to know that Harry’s perfectly capable of holding him up like this, pressed into a wall in a dark corner with Louis’ thighs tight around his hips. “I’m not sure that we have a choice, love,” he says gently.

Harry makes a short, hurt noise, and makes like he’s about to pull away. Louis clutches him tighter and makes him stay where he is, safe between Louis’ legs. “You know that this can’t happen, right?” Louis says. He keeps his eyes closed, not sure that he can keep the plan hidden if he opens them.

“Why not?” Harry demands, so very alpha in that one question. Louis shivers a little, hopes that it goes unnoticed.

Hopes that it doesn’t all at the same time.

“You know why,” Louis says, instead of giving him an actual answer. When Harry brings this conversation up later Louis has to be able to say that he never said that he didn’t want it to happen.

Harry doesn’t say anything. He does drag his mouth up until he meets Louis’, slanting together perfectly. Louis’ cock wastes no time in getting interested, perking up almost instantly, pressing against Harry’s belly as Harry kisses him, slow and deep and thorough. 

There’s a healthy flush working its way through Louis’ body by the time they get pulled apart. He reaches out instinctively, trying to grip Harry’s fingers and pull him back into Louis’ body, back where Louis needs him, but Paul spins him and walks him away without a word, lips pressed together tightly.

He keeps quiet as he all but shoves Louis into his room, making sure that the door clicks closed behind him. Louis flops down face first onto the bed and wiggles a hand underneath himself, gripping his cock firmly as he gets himself off.

It barely even takes five strokes.

 

 

Louis grits his teeth and stares blindly at the tv. He’s not going to do it. He’s not. This will be the time that he overcomes his needy omega side and listens to his brain. The fact that he’s an omega does not rule him. He’s capable of making mature, independent decisions that have nothing to do with his body chemistry.

He gets up off the couch and goes into Harry’s room anyway, telling himself that he’s not going to do anything. He’ll just look at the bed and that’ll be enough, that’ll help Louis sleep tonight.

He drifts towards it without meaning to, trailing his fingers over the neat tuck of the sheets. Harry’s the type of person who makes his bed before he goes away, doesn’t like coming back to dirty sheets. It means that he knows that Louis sleeps in it when he’s gone, he must know, because Louis never manages to make it as well, but he’s yet to say anything about it.

He peels the top sheet back and gives up, climbs into it and settles the sheets up over him. He’ll keep his shirt on, he reasons. At least that’ll be a step towards curbing this whole co-dependent thing he’s got going on lately.

He closes his eyes and tries to drift off into sleep. It’s normally easier than this.

Of course, it’s probably normally easier than this because Louis is usually wearing much less clothing, stripped down to his boxers. He had to admit defeat after a few minutes, tearing his shirt off over his head, leaving him in his underwear. 

The second his head hits the pillow again his eyes get fuzzy, and it’s so much easier to fall asleep, surrounded by Harry’s scent.

 

He should have expected to wake up to Harry pressed up against his back, but he didn’t. He opens his eyes, momentarily confused as to why he’s so bloody warm.

“You awake?” Harry murmurs in his ear, voice deep and gravelly, sleep rough. Louis really needs to start waking up when Harry gets into the bed. One of these days he’s going to do something that he doesn’t mean to, thinking that he’s dreaming.

“No,” Louis says. Harry’s hand is on his stomach, pressed flat against his bare skin, always using Louis’ unconsciousness to touch in ways that he would normally prevent.

Harry’s been gone for nearly a week, though, flew to L.A. to do something that Louis honestly didn’t even listen to. Louis always has a hard time caring why Harry’s leaving when he’s not taking him with him.

It means Louis is always extra clingy when Harry comes back, though, so he doesn’t knock Harry’s hand off of him. He twists the rings around on Harry’s fingers idly, metal warm to the touch.

“I brought you a present,” Harry says, voice lilting up like he thinks it’s going to entice Louis into being awake.

Louis lets his eyes drift closed again and pulls Harry’s hand up his chest until it rests over his heart. “You better have,” he says.

“You don’t want it now?” Harry asks. Louis gives the questions its due consideration, but ultimately it’s three o’clock in the morning.

“Is it within reaching distance?” he asks. Harry shifts, fingers brushing over Louis’ nipple too hard to be accidental. Louis lets him have it, though, because it’s been a week and they’ve both been lonely.

Yesterday they spent two hours on the phone. Literally. Louis had originally called him to find out how to make that homemade spaghetti sauce that Harry always makes look so simple, and then he just hadn’t hung up.

“No,” Harry answers. 

Louis puts his hand on top of Harry’s. “Give it to me in the morning,” he says. He slips his fingers into the space between Harry’s and holds on. “Also make me breakfast.”

“Okay,” Harry agrees, and Louis falls back asleep like that, safe and warm in the circle of Harry’s arms.

 

 

The touch thing is accidental. Obviously they touch, all the time even, but Louis didn’t actually mean for it slip over into the plan, at least not yet.

The fame is different than he thought it would be. It’s not that he doesn’t like it, because he loves knowing that people enjoy the music that they’re making, but pushing through a mob of screaming girls is insane.

Louis isn’t claustrophobic like Niall is, but unease still skitters down his spine every time someone grabs him too hard and _pulls_. It helps if he can have his hands on one of the boys, something to anchor himself to. It especially helps if he can have his hands on Harry. It helps even more if he can feel Harry’s hands on him.

Liam will haul Louis through a crowd if it’s getting too wild, Niall and Zayn will keep up a constant touch so they can’t get lost and so that they’re grounding each other, but Harry touches with intent. He’ll put an arm around Louis’ shoulder and keep him close while they’re walking, but if they’re trying to get through a crowd and Louis’ in front of him his hands always go to the same place - one on Louis’ right hip and the other wrapped around his left bicep, using his grip to control the pace Louis is walking at.

It’s dominating and possessive and rude and if it was anyone but Harry Louis would have punched them in the face a long time ago.

As it is, that touch is the only thing that’s keeping Louis from getting overwhelmed, people crowding in on every side, pushing into Louis’ space. They’ve already been separated from the rest of the boys. Robbie, one of their security guys, is in front of Louis, is pushing his way through the crowd with sheer determination. Louis’ holding onto his belt with sweaty fingers and choppy breathing.

All he can hear is the screaming of hundreds of fans clashing together, ringing in his ears. He’s pretty sure Harry’s trying to tell him something, but he has no idea what it is. The van’s only another fifty feet, but it’s another fifty feet of a packed crowd, and Louis isn’t entirely sure that they’re going to make it.

His grip slips off of Robbie’s belt. Louis panics, groping blindly for it. He misses and starts losing his breath, vision narrowing to Robbie getting steadily farther away.

Then Harry’s hand slips underneath his shirt, fingers curving around his ribs and resting against Louis’ belly. He shoves Louis forwards and doesn’t let go, and one of Louis’ flailing hands catches Robbie’s belt again.

He can breathe again, even though it feels like he’s soaked his shirt through with sweat. They make it to the van, somehow, and Harry shoves him inside and clambers in after him, nearly landing on top of him. The boys are already there, squished up together in the back to give them room to pull all their limbs in before Robbie slams the door closed and they’re off, making their way through the packed streets in the relative safety of the vehicle.

Louis tips his head against the window, grateful for the dark tint of them. Harry’s hand doesn’t move from where it’s pressed up against his side, underneath his shirt, until they reach the hotel.

 

So Harry touches him with intent, with the aim of telling the entire world who Louis belongs to, even if he doesn’t know it yet, but it takes a while for Louis to figure out that he needs Harry to touch him differently than he touches everyone else.

It shouldn’t be a surprise. The purpose of this plan being so in-depth and time consuming is so that Harry will realize all the ways that he already treats Louis like his omega when the truth comes out.

Louis has already tricked his body into thinking that Harry’s it for him, though, and it constantly wants to have Harry’s hands all over it, but not in the friendly way that he’s always touching other people. No, Louis’ stupid omega body wants Harry to touch it like he’s never going to let anyone else touch Louis ever again, possessive and sure that Louis is going to let him.

And Louis fucking lets him, every time, because when Harry grips him just shy of too tight his breath catches and electricity practically hums through his body. It would be the thing that destroys him, if the plan wasn’t working so well.

 

 

The bus is strange. Louis can hear all the boys breathing, Harry breathing, which, in theory, should make sleep come easier, knowing that his boys are around him and safe.

It doesn’t. In a hotel room Louis can coax Harry into sleeping in the same bed as him when he gets lonely, virtue of sharing a room more often than not. He can’t do that on the bus, even if Louis is pretty sure that they’d both fit into a bunk. He doesn’t want to wake up to Liam’s frowning face leaning over them, wondering what the hell is going on. It’s better if no one suspects anything.

That makes bus nights feel never ending, though. Louis is always forced to find a way to occupy himself, can’t sleep until he’s just the right amount of exhausted.

Normally Zayn would be up with him, closed off in the back together and pretending to DJ music or planning on how they’re going to fuck with people in the morning, but Zayn had begged off and gone to sleep, so now Louis is alone, listlessly watching a movie he doesn’t recognize.

He’s not at the point where he’s going to fall asleep any time soon. He’s tired but he can’t stop thinking, about the plan and how it’s going, about how he wants Harry _all the time_. It’s getting to be a problem. Louis might have to start stepping it up a little.

The movie gets to a car chase scene as the bus hits something. Louis is jolted forwards, slipping off the couch and landing hard on the ground. There’s silence for a minute, before the yelling starts.

Louis stays where he is, splayed out unattractively on the floor. He hurts, all over but in his elbow and neck, mostly.

The yelling fades, people making their way off the bus. Louis stays still for another minute before he can convince his body to push itself up. It’s slow going, pain shooting through his wrist when he tries to use his left hand for leverage, but he makes it, swaying on his feet.

He holds onto the wall as he makes his way towards the front. He’s not limping, which he guesses must be a good thing. The pain starts subsiding even in that brief, twenty second walk, made slower by Louis picking his way through all of the stuff that got thrown onto the ground.

He can hear shouting as he emerges, loud and panicked, and steps down just as Harry breaks through a wall of three of their security guys, _including_ Paul, who is about the only person who can calm any of them down when it counts, to launch himself at Louis.

Louis braces himself for the impact, already thinking about how much it’s gonna suck, but Harry slows just before he gets there and puts his arms around Louis gingerly, patting him up and down softly.

Looking for injuries, Louis realizes, even though he’s not even remotely qualified to do that.

“I’m okay,” Louis says. He catches Harry’s hands and grips them tight. “I’m okay. Are you okay?”

Liam, Niall and Zayn are all huddled together a few feet away, wrapped around each other tight. They seem alright, if a little shaken. Good. That’s good. Everyone is safe.

“I thought something happened to you,” Harry says shakily. He pulls his hands up to Louis’ face, dragging Louis’ along with him. “I thought something happened.”

Louis can feel Paul’s eyes on them, assessing them. It’s not how Paul usually looks at them, indulgent but ready to shut them down if they get out of hand. “Look at me, I’m alright,” Louis says. He can’t worry about how Paul’s looking at them anymore, not with Harry falling apart in front of him.

Harry drags in a deep breath. He’s not intentionally smelling Louis, but either way it should help him, breathing in Louis’ scent, blood free.

“I thought something happened to you,” Harry says again, like he’s incapable of saying anything else. Louis looks at him, really looks at him, his stricken, pale face, and tucks his head into Louis’ shoulder.

He’ll hold Harry for a while, until they both start feeling better.

 

Later, when the paramedics arrive and they’re treating Harry for shock, Paul pulls Louis aside.

He just looks at Louis for a while, until Louis starts getting uncomfortable and shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“Did you know that he gave Mark a black eye, trying to get back into the bus to get to you?” Paul asks. He’s still watching Louis’ face, like he’s waiting for Louis’ expression to confirm something that he’s already suspecting.

Louis is surprised, and he doesn’t think that’s the expression that Paul’s looking for, so he lets it show on his face. “A black eye?” Louis echoes. “He punched him?”

Paul’s face relaxes. Good. “The boy threw a dozen punches. One of them just happened to land.”

“That’s so _weird_ ,” Louis says. It is weird, because Harry is probably the least violent person that Louis knows. 

Well. Except maybe when he gets angry or when he thinks Louis might be hurt. He throws a bunch of shit when he gets angry, and when he thinks Louis might be hurt he gets so shockingly quiet and mean to whoever’s done it that Louis can never help getting a little bit wet.

“Just watch him,” Paul orders, a little bit of that suspicious expression back on his face. Louis offers him a small smile, appropriate for the situation, he thinks.

He’ll have to cool it around Paul for a while. There’s still a ways to go before he can set the next phase of the plan into action.

 

No one has to go to the hospital, which is lucky. Louis doesn’t know what happened to the other driver, and isn’t inclined to find out quite yet. He will eventually, but he’s had his hands full with Harry.

They spend the day in the hotel. The boys come and go, in and out of Louis and Harry’s hotel room, but Harry barely moves from where he is, curled up tight around Louis. All Louis can do is shrug a little when they send him questioning looks. 

Eventually, Louis has to pee. Harry’s mostly asleep, limbs heavy around Louis. Louis rearranges him until he can make his way out of the bed, ignoring Harry’s sleepy protests. His bladder won’t wait anymore.

By the time Louis makes his way out of the bathroom, Harry’s sitting up, more or less awake, sheets pooled on his lap. He better not have taken off his pants, that’s all Louis is saying. He doesn’t want to go through that struggle again.

Harry waits in silence until Louis gets on the bed, settling with his back to Harry’s chest. Harry makes another vague, protesting noise, but it’s because of Louis’ shirt, Louis knows. He put up a ten minute fight when Louis first got him into the bed, trying to get him to take it off so they could have skin to skin contact.

Louis only lets that happen when he’s overtired or drunk and can be convinced that it’s a good idea. It’s not, because the more skin to skin contact they have the easier Louis gets for him, omega body convinced that his alpha’s right about this, that they should be naked together all the time.

It’ll be fine once Harry finally pops his knot and Louis gets it inside of him, but until that day comes it’s too risky to have Harry’s naked body all over him, demanding things that Louis can’t give him yet.

Harry settles back down with his fingers linked on Louis’ belly, finished protesting for now. “I was so scared,” he says quietly.

Louis pats his hand. “You punched Mark in the face,” he says. He still doesn’t quite believe it.

“I would have done worse if you hadn’t come out the door,” Harry says. Louis fights the shiver climbing up his spine. “I probably would have gone crazy.” He nudges his hands underneath Louis’ shirt, taking liberties that Louis hasn’t given him.

Louis doesn’t stop him. It’s been a rough day. “I’m okay, though,” he says instead. Harry’s hands are warm against his stomach, practically covering him they’re so big. 

Most of the time, Louis hates being small, because it’s practically an invitation for people to assume that he’s an omega, but right now, Louis doesn’t mind it, feeling small in Harry’s hands.

Harry’s hands slide up to his nipples, flicking at them gently. Louis breathes in sharply and grabs his hands. “Just let me,” Harry murmurs into Louis’ ear. “I won’t - I won’t do anything, just let me have this, yeah?”

Louis shouldn’t. Louis should get out of the bed and leave the room entirely, flee to the sanctuary of his own room, where he can jerk off in peace, maybe even finger himself a little and take the edge of the want off.

Instead he drops his hands to his sides and lets Harry flick at his nipples some more, arching into the touch. He gets hard quickly, almost dizzyingly so.

His arse dampens, too, and he worries about Harry noticing it for all of a second before he can’t concentrate on it anymore, can only concentrate on how good it feels. Harry’s fingers are gentle, rolling Louis’ nipples for a minute before he gets sharp, flicking at them again, until the ache spreads throughout Louis’ entire body, arsehole throbbing with how much he wants to just let Harry do anything he wants.

“Why don’t you touch yourself,” Harry suggests, voice smoky in Louis’ ear, and Louis is obeying before he even realizes it, slipping his hand inside his own pajama pants and curling it around his cock.

He’s empty, though, and he wants something in him like he wants air, his own fingers or Harry’s fingers, Harry’s cock. Harry’s knot.

But Harry hasn’t popped it yet, Louis thinks distantly, reminding himself. He has to make do with his fingers around his cock and Harry rubbing his nipples until they’ll still be sore in the morning.

Harry’s breathing is ragged behind him, and Louis can feel him, hard and thick against the small of his back. “Lemme see,” Harry says. “Lemme see, I wanna see.” His voice is demanding, sharp, and Louis wants to obey, wants to peel his pajamas down and let Harry see him, cock dripping at the head as Louis gets himself off.

“No,” Louis says. He swallows the pool of saliva in his mouth and pushes his hips up into his fist, curling his fingers tight against the head of his cock. 

“Please, I just wanna see,” Harry coaxes. He pinches both of Louis’ nipples at the same time, holding them for a few long seconds. Louis’ cock throbs in time with the ache there, orgasm hurling closer with every slight touch. He sucks his lower lip into his mouth and bites down on it, stroking his cock faster.

“No,” Louis repeats, voice wavering. He needs to come in the next two minutes before he loses all semblance of self control and lets Harry strip him out of all his clothes, and then Harry will know, will be able to see Louis’ hole glistening for him, wet and ready for Harry to press his cock inside, to get Louis knotted up so full that he can’t even breathe.

“Yes,” Harry counters. One of his hands strays away from Louis’ nipple, leaving a tender ache behind, down Louis’ stomach. Louis tilts forward, knocking Harry’s hands off of him completely, and squeezes himself hard, mouth dropping open with how good it feels.

He comes, dripping down his own fingers and panting into his leg. He’s still shivering through the aftershocks as Harry pushes his shirt up, baring his back. He can feel the knock of Harry’s knuckles against him as Harry starts jerking himself off, quick and hard, trying to get himself off before Louis comes back to his senses.

It only takes him thirty seconds before he starts coming, shooting onto Louis’ back. He’s mumbling to himself as he does, shit about Louis being pretty and his and wanting to fuck him.

Louis should be mad. Harry’s come is cooling on his skin, and his own is getting tacky between his fingers. He shouldn’t have let this happen.

It did, though, and it was so fucking good Louis can barely believe it. Harry’s fingers start smearing his come into Louis’ skin, and Louis shouldn’t be letting that happen, either.

Louis lets him finish, fingers coming to a halt on Louis’ back but staying there like he knows that Louis still needs the contact, the perfect alpha for Louis’ omega.

Louis is going to fucking keep him for the rest of his life.

For now, though, he needs to make sure that it doesn’t happen again before Louis is ready to implement the next step of the plan, so he sits up and turns just enough to see Harry’s face.

“You know we shouldn’t have done that, right?” Louis asks quietly. Harry’s face twists, like he’s thinking about arguing, about pushing it. Louis represses his shiver.

It clears quickly, though. “I know,” Harry agrees. He puts a hand on Louis’ jaw, sweeping his thumb over the curve. “Just. Just let me have tonight, alright? Just tonight, and I promise I’ll let it go.”

Louis shouldn’t say yes. This is so fucking dangerous already, Louis’ slick practically seeping into the mattress. “We’re not going to do that again,” he says firmly.

“We’ll just kiss,” Harry says. “Just let me kiss you for tonight. Just for a while.”

Louis should say no. “Okay,” he says, and lets Harry kiss him.

Just for tonight.

 

 

For all that Louis’ plan has been to get them so tangled up together that neither of them will ever be able to walk away, he hesitates for a long time when Harry asks him to move in together.

He’s still sure that Harry is an alpha. He’s just a late bloomer, is all, and Louis knows this as surely as he knew that Harry would be an alpha the day they met. It matters more, now, what with Louis’ plan and all, and it’s the reason that Louis is hesitating.

He says yes, of course, when Harry asks, but there’s always a way to back out of things like this if necessary, even if Louis hasn’t thought of one yet.

It’s just that Louis is worried. He hasn’t had a heat since he was a pre-teen, because the suppressants that he’s on kick arse, but it can be triggered by being around an alpha for so long and in such close quarters.

He avoids really thinking about it for too long, though, because now he’s staring up at the entrance to a flat with his and Harry’s names on the deed and two moving vans in the lot waiting to be unloaded.

It’s too late to back out now, and Louis is still worried about what’ll happen if he does go into heat before Harry pops a knot, but Harry’s bounding around collecting hugs from the boys and the movers and their new neighbors, grin threatening to split right off his face, so happy that he looks kind of demented.

Louis nods to himself and goes to talk the movers into picking up the pace. He’ll deal with the whole heat thing if it ever comes up.

 

The process of getting all of their combined crap into the flat only takes two hours with everyone’s help. Harry’s completely useless, too excited about having his own place to do anything, and everyone practically trips over him every time they go to move a box.

Louis is hopelessly endeared. He’s mostly just hoping that it doesn’t show in his face.

Louis is in the kitchen once all the boxes are in and the movers have been dealt with, pulling a case of beer out of the fridge. He straightens up and backs directly into Harry’s body.

It’s been a long day. They woke up at half four in the morning to finish up any last minute packing - or, well, _Harry_ woke up at half four in the morning and called Louis twenty-three times until Louis finally picked up the phone and proceeded to badger Louis into finishing his packing. The movers arrived at eight o’clock, while Louis was still running around gathering up the rest of his things, and his mum had taken over and given them directions on exactly what was supposed to be going with him.

It took them two hours to load all of Louis’ stuff into the van, and Louis is still kind of perplexed about how exactly he’d managed to accumulate so much shit in only nineteen years. The drive from Doncaster to London ended up taking four and a half hours with traffic, so Louis had gotten to the flat around 2:30 in the afternoon.

Harry had already been there, along with the rest of the boys, but only just, and they’ve all been awake since more or less the same time. It’s showing in all of their faces, smiles drooping just the tiniest bit.

So Louis is tired, is the point, tired but excited to be in his own home, so he turns around and meets Harry’s beaming smile with one of his own.

“I’m so happy,” Harry says, eyes wide and slightly manic. He’s had a lot of sugar, sneaking lollipops and chocolate bars and Starbursts whenever Louis wasn’t looking. He’s going to get a cavity. Louis is sure of it.

“Me too, Hazza,” Louis says, because even if he’s not sure that this is going to work out for him, in this moment he’s happy.

He shouldn’t be surprised when Harry leans down and presses their mouths together. It’s not the first time Harry’s kissed him. It’s not even the first time Harry’s kissed him with tongue. He always does it when Louis is too tired or too happy or too _something_ to say no, like he knows that Louis would make him stop, otherwise. They don’t talk about it, never talk about the kisses that Harry steals.

The kisses are just sweet, anyway, not necessarily chaste but never asking for anything more. If Louis ever told him to stop Harry would. Louis knows that in the same way that he knows that Harry is an alpha, beyond a shadow of a doubt. 

Harry always pulls back after just a minute, mouth pinker than normal and smiling. He brushes his thumb over the corner of Louis’ mouth, takes the case of beer out of his arms and walks away, into the living room.

Louis closes his eyes and leans against the fridge for a minute. He hopes that deciding to live with Harry doesn’t come back to bite him in the arse.

 

Their first day of living together isn’t exactly what Louis thought it would be. He falls asleep in the middle of unpacking a box in the living room, curled up in a strange position on the floor.

When he wakes up he’s in Harry’s bed. There’s a sheet twisted up underneath him and part of the mattress peeking out, like all Harry had done was thrown the sheet on instead of making the bed properly.

That actually is what he did, Louis realizes, because the mattress is still on the floor, parts of the bed frame still strewn around the room, waiting to be put together. Louis can only imagine what his own room must look like - boxes tipping over, clothes spilling out everywhere. It must be a right mess, hazardous to even enter.

It’s probably why Harry put him in here instead of sticking him in his own room, but knowing that doesn’t stop the arousal from creeping through his veins. He can feel Harry pressed up against his back, warm and half naked, breath tickling Louis’ neck. He’s fast asleep, but that doesn’t make it any easier to inch away. He’s got an arm curled around Louis’ belly, keeping him exactly where he is.

Exactly where he is makes sure that all Louis can focus on is Harry’s cock pressing up against his bum, hot and thick. They’ve never woken up like this, despite all the times they’ve slept in the same bed. Louis thinks that it probably has something to do with Harry being worried that someone’s going to walk in on it and think it’s strange.

It is strange. It’s strange to feel Harry’s cock like this, to know that he’s spent the night practically glued to Louis’ back with his cock hanging heavy between his legs, subconsciously wanting to get a piece of Louis’ arse, maybe even dreaming about it.

Louis can’t stay like this much longer, though, not without his slick starting to seep through his pants and outing him, so he wiggles until he’s got enough space to turn around in Harry’s arms. 

He can’t convince himself to get up, even though he really should, so he lays there like that, enough space between their crotches that they aren’t actually touching, until he manages to fall back asleep.

 

They spend most of the first full day in the new flat unpacking box after box. Every time Louis goes past Harry’s bedroom with the door still wide open his gaze lands on the bed, still unmade and rumpled. It was honestly the best night’s sleep Louis can ever remember having. He doesn’t understand why Harry’s bed is so much more comfortable than his.

The nosy little omega part of his brain insists that it’s because it has Harry’s scent, but that makes no sense. It’s not a new mattress, so it does have his scent, but Louis has slept in one of Harry’s shirts before, stolen from his dirty clothes pile when they’ve each gotten their own hotel rooms. He’s used to having Harry’s scent around him when he’s sleeping. They fucking sleep in the same bed every time Louis can think of a way to pull it off. It just doesn’t make sense.

Louis gets banned from the kitchen after he starts throwing all of the pots and pans into random cupboards, not particularly caring whether Harry will be able to find them later. He settles down in his own room and unpacks exactly one box of clothing that he shoves into random drawers without folding. He’ll curse himself for it later, when he pulls something out only to find it completely wrinkled, but he’s tired of unpacking.

He creeps back into the kitchen and launches himself at Harry’s back, laughing when Harry starts swearing and trying to wrestle him off. It doesn’t work. Louis is the clingiest person in the world when he wants to be.

“I hate you,” Harry mutters. He hefts Louis up further on his back and makes sure that his legs are tight around Harry’s sides before he lets go and goes back to whatever he was doing before Louis interrupted him.

What he was doing is sorting silverware into the cutlery drawer. Louis watches him do it over his shoulder for thirty seconds before he starts getting bored. Why do they even have so much cutlery, anyway? There’s only the two of them.

He jabs his heel into Harry’s thigh. “Pay attention to me,” he demands. “Harry. Why aren’t you paying attention to me.”

Harry sighs and sets his hands against the counter, leaning their combined weight against it easily. Louis tries hard not to be impressed. “I’m trying to get the kitchen unpacked,” he says.

“That’s stupid,” Louis says immediately. “You’re stupid. Why are you so stupid.” 

“It’s stupid to want to be able to use a fork during dinner?” Harry asks, but Louis can hear the amusement coloring his tone already. It’s not that he doesn’t want to fuck around, it’s that he’s waiting for Louis to convince him that he should.

Louis can do that. “Considering that we’re eating pizza for dinner, it’s incredibly stupid.” He tugs on Harry’s hair to see if he can control his movements like in Ratatouille. 

All it does is jerk Harry’s head to the side rather harshly. He pets at it softly, until he thinks that it probably doesn’t hurt anymore. 

“We ate pizza yesterday,” Harry complains. “I wanted to make a nice dinner tonight.” He puts his hands underneath Louis’ knees and heads towards the living room. Louis cheers loudly, right in Harry’s ear.

“But I want pizza tonight,” Louis says. His breath gets knocked out of him when Harry sits on the couch, squishing him right up between his back and the cushions.

“Are you going to complain if I don’t let you eat pizza tonight?” Harry asks. He leans forward to grab the remote off of one of the unpacked boxes, and Louis silently congratulates them on having the foresight to hook up the tv before they started the rest of the unpacking.

Louis considers the question. “Does throwing vegetables at your head while you’re trying to cook count as complaining?”

Harry turns the tv on and starts flipping through the channels. “It might not count as complaining but it definitely counts as abuse,” he says. He finds a channel playing _Wedding Crashers_ and stops on that.

They watch in silence for a few minutes, breathing in tandem, as Gloria douses Jeremy’s cuts with peroxide and exudes her crazy person act. Louis shoves at Harry’s back once the scene is over. “Let me out,” he demands. “I wanna be in the front.”

Harry leans forward just enough for Louis to be able to wiggle out from behind him and collapse properly on the couch, splayed across Harry’s lap. They watch the rest of the movie like that, and by the end Louis’ eyes are closing every few seconds, too heavy to keep open.

Harry nudges him when it’s over, pressing gently against the back of Louis’ neck, almost like a massage. Louis makes a grumpy noise and buries his face farther into the cushions. “You wanna take a nap?” he asks, ignoring Louis’ attempts to ignore him.

“Want pizza,” Louis says to the cushions. One of Harry’s hands splays across his arse, big and warm, and Louis hasn’t said that he could do that. Louis doesn’t even think that he really _knows_ that he’s doing it.

“You always want pizza,” Harry says. His hand lifts off of Louis’ arse for a second and then comes down again, firm. Louis yelps and turns his head to face Harry, pink faced.

Harry’s grinning, like he knew that all it would take to get Louis’ attention on him is a slap on the arse. “That wasn’t very nice,” Louis says disapprovingly, but he’s lying. There’s a part of him that thought it was very nice, arse warmed by Harry’s hand.

“I dunno what you expected me to do. Your bum’s practically in my face,” Harry says, shrugging. 

“Don’t touch my personal property,” Louis says haughtily. He closes his eyes again and pushes his face back into the cushions, willing it to stop flushing. He’s just grateful that he hasn’t started leaking, yet.

Harry’s hand comes down again, harder this time. Louis bites back the whimper that wants to escape him. _Fuck_. He needs to put an end to this before something happens. “Isn’t it my personal property, though?” Harry asks, quiet and sure. 

Louis swallows and wonders when Harry started changing from a sweet sixteen year old boy to - whatever he is now. Almost seventeen years old and occasionally so sure of his hold over Louis that he has to go jerk off in the bathroom so he doesn’t say fuck it and let Harry fuck him.

He rolls to his feet and smacks Harry in the face. “Order me extra cheese,” he says, and goes to hide in his bedroom, pretending to unpack some boxes until his erection’s gone down.

Definitely picked the right person.

 

 

The first time Louis curls up in Harry’s lap with the intention of getting him used to Louis being there is strange. Louis knows that this version of Harry is the smallest he’ll ever be in the time that Louis knows him. He knows it like he knows whether someone’s an alpha or not, with complete certainty and absolutely no room for doubt.

So curling up in Harry’s lap when Harry’s sixteen, on the second week of the X-Factor live shows, when Harry is still the same size as Louis, is so incredibly weird. He’ll get bigger, and quickly. He’ll probably have an inch on Louis before the show’s even finished taping, but for now it’s still strange.

Louis is sad and missing home, and his family, and his friends, but especially his mum, so he only pauses for a minute before flipping the lock on their bedroom door. Liam just went to the kitchen to get something to eat, so he’ll be pissed when he comes back and finds that Louis has locked him out, but there has to be no witnesses for this.

Louis is pretty sure that the boys are going to catch them cuddling at some point, because Harry will cuddle with anyone who stands still for long enough, but it’s important that Harry associates his first real cuddle with Louis as something private.

Harry’s sleeping, even though it’s the middle of the day, so Louis crawls underneath the covers with him and gets as close as possible, slipping his thigh over Harry’s legs.

Harry wakes up abruptly, eyes wide and staring into Louis’ with no warning. It takes him all of five seconds to put his hand on Louis’ face, thumb brushing Louis’ jaw.

Louis could cry. That entire movement screams familiarity. People don’t touch each other’s faces like that unless they’re very close. Alphas don’t touch an omega’s face like that unless there’s something between them, something deep and meaningful.

This might not be as hard as Louis thought it would be after all. “Y’alright?” Harry mumbles, voice thick with sleep.

“Just homesick,” Louis says. He twists his fingers into Harry’s shirt, surprised that Harry’s even wearing one, nudist that he is. He must have fallen asleep before he could get it off.

“Mm,” Harry says. He presses his mouth to the top of Louis’ head, still sleep warm, and curls his hand around the back of Louis’ neck.

Louis’ tears dampen the fabric of Harry’s shirt. He’ll blame it on the homesickness if Harry asks, but the truth is that this feels like the first time that the plan is actually going to work. Louis will get to have his happily ever after exactly the way he wants it.

 

 

It’s not really a plan so much as an idea at first. Louis spends the rest of the time at the bungalow just watching Harry and how he interacts with the other boys as opposed to how he interacts with Louis. Louis stays the same and continues poking at Harry’s dimples and pulling on his hair when he’s not looking and cuddling the grumpiness out of him in the morning.

Harry treats Louis differently in ways that seem to speak volumes - always trying to tuck Louis underneath his arm when they’re next to each other, always watching Louis’ face when he’s talking, always with half of his attention fixed on Louis no matter what he’s doing.

It’s frustrating in that Louis can’t tell how much of that is Harry genuinely just having a crush on him and how much is Harry’s innate alpha characteristics trying to break through the surface with a sexually compatible omega around. Alphas usually react differently to Louis than they do to other omegas, usually a subconscious part of them picking up that Louis isn’t exactly what he says he is. It’s the reason that he doesn’t have many close alpha friends, too wary of the slight possibility of being outed.

He was worried, at first, about being put into a group with two alphas in it. Harry wasn’t so bad, because he was never taught how to use his alpha senses, born and raised in a beta family, and after a few days Louis came to the conclusion that Harry would never pick up on it without some pretty heavy clues.

Liam, on the other hand, has known that he’s an alpha all his life and knows how to use his alpha senses, scent and intuition more than anything. He’s never even taken a second look at Louis, though, so Louis either had to let it go or live the rest of his life worried that Liam was going to turn around and yell _you’re an omega!_ at the top of his lungs.

Louis let it go. He has bigger things to worry about.

Harry’s crush on him both complicates things and makes them easier. If there wasn’t a natural sexual attraction there Louis would have his work cut out for him, but because there is it’s hard for Louis to work out exactly how omega he should be around Harry. Harry likes him either way, but if Louis isn’t omega enough it’s going to fuck things up in the long run.

At the same time, if Louis is _too_ omega he runs the risk of Harry becoming that stereotypical alpha and treating Louis like a stereotypical omega when he finally pops his knot. It’s like trying to find his balance on an extremely thin tight-rope, exacerbated by the fact that Louis doesn’t want any of the other boys picking up on any of Louis’ omega traits until he’s good and ready for them to find out.

The single most important thing, though, is for Harry to look back at this time and remember how they acted when they were together, just the two of them, and think _oh. Should’ve seen that coming_ , and in order for that to happen Louis needs to sit down and think of all the possibilities.

It’ll be the most detailed plan Louis has ever come up with.

 

They get through the Judge’s Houses and move into the X-Factor House. Louis’ heart beats a little faster when he gets a good look at the room, decent sized for one or two people but cramped for five. 

That’s really the point at which it starts becoming real. This is Louis’ best shot at doing what he loves. He has no idea how far the show is going to get them, whether they’ll still be a band if they get kicked off in the first couple of weeks, and that really cements it for him.

He’s almost one hundred percent sure that he’s not going to find an alpha that’s better for him than Harry will be, especially because he has the opportunity of a lifetime to shape Harry’s alpha side into exactly what Louis needs him to be. If they only get two weeks to be One Direction Louis needs to make sure that when he leaves Harry’s at his side.

It’s still a scary thing, to let someone see a side of him that literally only one person outside of his family has seen.

Then Louis will watch Harry’s eyes darken when Louis does a weird little shimmy for him, and Louis knows that it’ll be worth all the work that he’s going to have to put in.

 

 

The thought comes to Louis during the first couple of days at the bungalow. Louis’ swinging idly on a pretty awesome hammock, practically lulling himself to sleep with the sounds of loud, open laughter ringing through his ears. Louis would normally be over there with them, doing whatever it is that they’re doing, but his belly’s full, the sun’s beating down on him and he’s so comfortable, just the right amount of warm to start sliding into sleep.

He’ll probably wake up with something rude sharpie-d onto his face, but he really only has himself to blame for corrupting everyone else.

Someone drops to their knees loudly, interrupting Louis’ perfect little bubble of sleepiness. Louis doesn’t have to open his eyes to know that it’s Harry, mostly because he recognizes the faint scent of Harry’s shampoo but also a little bit because they haven’t gone more than an hour without touching each other except when they’re sleeping since they got here.

“Lou. Are you sleeping?” Harry’s hand lands on Louis’ stomach, on the sliver of skin exposed where Louis’ shirt has rucked up.

Louis opens his eyes just a crack. All he sees at first is the glaring, blinding light of the sun, but then Harry’s free hand comes up to shield Louis’ eyes, and Harry comes into view, leaning over Louis, hair falling messily around his face. 

“I would be if you weren’t bothering me,” Louis mumbles. Harry’s fingers tuck themselves into the waistband of Louis’ shorts, and Louis would think that it’s a move if it wasn’t for the way that Harry looks the exact same as he always does, open and carefree and so excited to have all of Louis’ attention on him.

“I’m not bothering you,” Harry says, pouting, and they’ve barely even known each other for two weeks, really, so there’s no way that Harry should be comfortable enough with Louis’ body for his hand to flatten itself out on Louis’ belly like it belongs there.

Louis already knows that Harry is an alpha, that he’ll eventually pop a knot, even if no one else knows it, the same way that he knows that Liam’s also an alpha, that Zayn and Niall are betas without anyone telling him. He just knows, the same way he always knows with everyone, and it’s a little weird, sure, but Louis has always known, so he’s mostly over it by now.

If Louis were smart he would be finding ways to discourage Harry from doing shit like this, because he has no idea how long this whole band thing is gonna last for, but there might come a day when the boys all find out, a day when Harry knows he’s an alpha and might think that Louis let him act like this on purpose, unconsciously handsy and familiar, because he wanted something that Harry didn’t even know he could give.

“If you were petting me properly you wouldn’t be bothering me,” Louis says drowsily. Harry’s hand starts sweeping over his belly immediately, eager to give Louis what he wants. The motions push Louis’ shirt further up, until it’s bunched up underneath his armpits, leaving his stomach and most of his chest exposed to the sun.

“You’re so tan,” Harry says. “Did you put on sunblock?” 

“You’re so dumb,” Louis says, but he can’t keep the fondness out of his voice and Harry knows it. They’re way too tangled up together for having known each other for such a short amount of time, and it’s effortless, easy.

“You love me,” Harry says. He brushes his hand down Louis’ stomach and scratches gently at his navel. Louis arches up into it helplessly, eyes fluttering closed. “You love me more than Stan, probably.”

“I hate you more than Stan,” Louis corrects. Harry’s fingers dig into his skin, trying to tickle him, but Louis has four younger sisters who try to pull that trick all the time. He’s immune.

“You love me,” Harry croons. “You love me, Lou, say you love me.” It’s more of a demand than anything, and Louis’ breath catches in his throat. It’s so very alpha that Louis doesn’t even know what to do with it.

Harry’s fingers loosen, and the moment slips by. “I do love you,” Louis says. He doesn’t need to open his eyes again to see Harry’s blinding smile.

“I know that,” Harry says. “Now did you put on sunblock or not?” It’s different, the way that Harry wants to take care of Louis, probably because he was raised with everyone thinking that he would be a beta, has all those beta mannerisms competing with innate alpha characteristics. He’s not going to be a typical alpha when he finally comes into it.

“I didn’t,” Louis admits. Harry’s hand pats his stomach once.

“I’m going to get you some. Stay here,” Harry orders. Louis stays, and he thinks about it again. Harry is probably not going to be a typical alpha when he comes into it.

Louis could probably work this to his advantage.

 

*

 

Harry’s pissed off by the time he gets back to the hotel room. Paul pointedly props the door open before leaving them alone, sending Louis a warning look. Harry’s frustration shows in his demeanor, in his clenched fists and heavy footsteps. 

Louis waits him out. Harry’s never able to hold his anger in for that long.

“They keep telling me that I should treat you differently,” Harry says.

“Paul does?” Louis asks. He keeps his voice even and concentrates on peeling his kiwis, trying to ignore the pang in his chest. Louis has had plenty of meetings since The First Time, but Paul’s never been less anything than supportive, shutting down any comment that sounds even slightly derogatory. Louis isn’t sure that he approves of them, exactly, but he’s never too mean when he finds them tucked away in a corner or a hotel room together, even when he’s explicitly told them to stay away from each other because the bond won’t fade if they keep getting in such close proximity all the time. 

And one of the new sound guys disappeared a couple days ago. Louis is pretty sure that Paul fired him. He’s also pretty sure that Paul fired him because of the way he was looking at Louis.

“No, all the others,” Harry says. He throws his phone down onto the bed. It bounces and falls off the side, hitting the floor with a dull thud. It’s probably broken. That’s not going to make people very happy. It’s the third one this week alone.

Louis pops a slice of the kiwi into his mouth and holds another out to Harry as he chews. “What are they telling you to do?”

Harry crosses the room and takes the kiwi out from between Louis’ fingers with his mouth, teeth scraping against Louis’ skin, firm and wet.

Louis swallows his half chewed fruit. Bastard knows exactly what he’s doing.

“They’re telling me that I need to act like more of an alpha and treat you like more of an omega.” 

Louis withdraws his hand before Harry can come up with a bright idea like sucking the juice off of Louis’ fingers. “I see,” Louis says carefully. He cuts another piece of kiwi off, sliced a little too thin because he’s having a hard time concentrating on it.

“Like, what does that even mean? Am I supposed to suddenly turn into a douchebag who treats omegas like shit?” Harry asks, frustrated. Louis shrugs one shoulder. He makes it as dainty as possible, small and elegant. He’s been working on it.

“I suppose you’re meant to treat me like all other alphas treat me now,” Louis offers. He finishes cutting the kiwi up into small, even slices and arranges them in a row.

Harry’s fingers close around his wrist abruptly. “Would you look at me?” he demands, and for someone who’s claiming that they don’t know how to be an alpha he’s definitely got the alpha voice down pat.

Louis looks up at him. “I don’t know, Harry, alright? I don’t know what they want from you. I know that they want me to suddenly be small and dainty and let you speak first whenever we’re interviewed and defer to you in public and just be a little quieter all the time, so I guess they must want you to do the opposite of all that.”

“You’re not like that, though,” Harry snaps. He runs his hands through his hair, one of his rings catching on a tangle. It’s a ring that Louis gave him. Harry’s worn it every day since Louis got it for him, barely even taking it off to shower even though it’s pretty cheap and bound to rust. 

Sometimes Louis is amazed that Harry hasn’t caught up yet, that he can get away with things that are so obvious.

“I’m not,” Louis agrees. He lowers his gaze down to the table and eats another piece of fruit. 

Harry kicks at the leg of an empty chair, sending it skittering across the room. Louis jumps a little. “This whole situation fucking sucks,” Harry says bitterly. “I had to fight to even come back here, did you know that? They wanted to send me back to the bus. They’re acting like I’m going to maul you the second that I get you alone.”

“Well it’s not exactly like we’ve given them a reason to trust us,” Louis points out. The kiwi’s finished now, and Louis has nothing to do with his hands. He folds them together and presses them into the table to stop himself from reaching out.

He can feel Harry staring at him. He looks up, but only because he doesn’t have an excuse to keep looking at the table. Not making eye contact for too long is suspicious. 

“No, I guess we haven’t,” Harry says. There’s something sharp in his eyes, calculating. Almost like he’s just realized something. He drops the subject, but he keeps watching Louis with that same look.

Louis resolves to let things go back to the way they were before, at least for a little while. The last thing he needs is Harry suspecting that anything’s amiss.

 

It’s no surprise when they get dragged into a meeting later that day. It’s been a few days since the news broke, enough time for Louis to get through his heat, three hot, warm days of being pinned down to every flat surface in the hotel room and being fucked within an inch of his life, three days of having countless orgasms every time Harry had touched him.

If it wasn’t too inconvenient schedule wise to have a heat every month Louis would never go back on the pills.

On one hand, it’s a little strange that they’ve only dragged Louis and Harry to this meeting, considering that this is something that affects the entire band, but on the other hand there’ll probably be meetings upon meetings with the other boys later. Louis is just surprised that it took them this long to drag them into a meeting together.

Louis sits in his chair and tries to catch Harry’s eyes. It mostly fails.

“We have several options,” Mary begins. Louis hunches in on himself a little. He’s not going to lie, she’s a little bit scary, a complete take no-nonsense type of person. She doesn’t care for dramatics or whining or antics. 

In other words, she’s the type of person who doesn’t have time to take any of Louis’ shit.

Normally Harry’s attention would be on him the second that he so much as shivered, but Harry’s mouth is pressed into a thin, firm line, eyes focused on Mary. He’s completely ignoring Louis.

It’s something that Louis never thought to account for. He has no idea how to deal with it. He’s had Harry’s attention without having to work with it since the very second they met. 

“We can say that it was the first time it happened and that it was a mistake, never to happen again,” Mary says. Her hands are folded together on top of the table neatly. She’s a beta, prim and proper. Louis wonders what she thinks of him being an omega. He doesn’t have to try hard to imagine her nose crinkling up with distaste, thoughts running through her head of all the times she’s seen him run shrieking through a hallway with some stolen knick-knack in his hands, trying to avoid Paul.

“I thought you already spun the story,” Harry says. His voice is dull, flat. Louis presses his knuckles into his knees hard enough to really feel it, because he needs to feel _something_. He doesn’t do well with being ignored in general, and being ignored by his alpha makes him want to do something drastic and force Harry to pay attention to him.

“We put some ideas out there, yes, but they won’t be traced back to us if we decide to go another direction,” she says. “We can say that it wasn’t the first time but that it never meant anything before, which might hurt your reputation.”

“Or?” Harry prompts.

“Or we can say that the two of you are together and that you were hiding it,” she finishes. “Obviously, there’s pros and cons to each option. You’ll probably want to take some time to talk about it and decide what you’re going to do.”

“We’re not going to say that we’re in a relationship,” Harry says firmly. He opens his mouth like he has something else to say, but Louis isn’t listening anymore.

He pointedly doesn’t flip over a table on his way out, as much as he wants to. Fuck Harry. _Fuck_ Harry.

 

Louis locks the deadbolt on his hotel room door that night, but it’s a wasted endeavor. Harry doesn’t come to see him.

Louis is still angry when he wakes up. He ignores Harry all day. He looks at Harry when he’s talking to him, but only because he can’t stop himself from doing it instinctively. He scoffs and looks away every time, making his displeasure clear.

The plan has changed. It never took into consideration the fact that Harry would brush his hands of Louis the second that he got the chance. Louis will just have to ignore Harry until he figures out where to go from here. All he knows right now is that this won’t stand.

 

Louis doesn’t quite know how he got here, trapped in the green room alone with Harry, but there’s no way he can get out of this situation without making a run for it, and he’s not sure that he’s willing to sacrifice the last of his dignity doing that.

“Have you been planning this?” Harry asks. He’s staring at Louis with his eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched. It’s the angriest Louis has ever seen him.

It might also be the hottest Louis has ever seen him.

Louis scoffs. “How would I have planned this? S’not like I could’ve made you an alpha, now is it?”

Harry crosses his arms over his chest. His jaw gets tighter. “Stop avoiding the question.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “No, Harry, I haven’t been planning this,” he says, enunciating his words clearly, precisely. 

Harry keeps staring. Louis does his best not to fidget uncomfortably. He gaze catches on the door behind Harry. He’d do just about anything to get out of this conversation, but now that Harry’s started it it’d look very suspicious if Louis bailed.

“Do you really think that after nearly four years I can’t tell when you’re lying?” Harry asks, voice low and in control. Louis’ gaze snaps back to him helplessly.

“I - what? I’m not lying,” he denies, probably too quickly, judging by the look on Harry’s face. 

Harry’s arm drop to his side. He takes a few meandering steps towards Louis. “So how long has it been? A year? Two?”

Louis takes a few steps backwards, as many as he can until he bumps into the table set up against the wall with its nice little display of food. He glances back at it instinctively, checking to see if he’s knocked anything over. 

It’s a mistake, though, because all of a sudden Harry’s hand is on his jaw, turning his head back, pressed up against him everywhere it matters. “Was it three, Lou?” Harry asks. “Four? Have you been planning it from the very first second that we met in that bathroom?” His hand is big on Louis’ face, tilting his head up so that eye contact is all but inescapable, and Jesus, those three inches that Harry has on him have never seemed so monumental.

“What were you gonna do if I figured it out before now, baby?” Harry murmurs. There’s heat twisting in Louis’ belly, some deep primal urge that responds to that tone. “What were you gonna do if I figured it out before you got us in too deep?”

Louis is flushed all over. He can feel it and he’s not happy about it, not happy about the direction this conversation is heading, so it’s time to pull out all the stops.

He lets his eyes go wet, lower lip a little trembly, and says, “You could leave. I won’t - I won’t keep you here. If that’s what you want I won’t fight it.”

Harry shuffles in closer, until Louis is forced up onto the table if he doesn’t want Harry’s cock rubbing against his belly. He knocks something over, he’s pretty sure, but he can’t spare a glance right now, not when Harry’s coming in even closer, in between the spread of Louis’ thighs, until his hips are flush against Louis’ body.

Harry dips his head down, mouthing down Louis’ jawline, barely there, gentle presses of his lips against Louis’ skin. Louis grips the edge of the table with both hands and tries to tell his stupid omega body to stop being so easy for it. He’s supposed to be angry.

“You should have done it when I was sixteen,” Harry murmurs. He drags his mouth up until he can catch Louis’ lower lip between his teeth and tug. Louis whimpers, can’t stop it from escaping. 

“I don’t - ” Louis says, clenching his fingers in the back of Harry’s t-shirt as Harry sucks his lip into his mouth. He’s supposed to be trying to say something, he’s pretty sure, trying to convince Harry of something, but he can’t concentrate, can’t focus on anything but the press of Harry’s body against his and his mouth pinkening up where Harry’s biting at it.

“You could’ve popped me something, could’ve gotten me in you then, when I would’ve done anything to have you, and I’d have swelled up in you then, too overwhelmed to do anything about it,” Harry says, into Louis’ mouth like it’s a secret.

“You’d still do anything to have me,” Louis says, before he can stop himself.

“Mm,” Harry agrees, sucking on Louis’ tongue for a long, glorious minute. “But you know why you should have done it when I was sixteen?” He rolls his hips against Louis’, knocking them together, letting Louis feel him, hard and hot, the beginning of his knot already swelling, just from this. 

“Harry,” Louis says. His hand is scrambling down between their bodies before his brain’s given it permission, but it doesn’t matter. Harry grabs it before it can get anywhere interesting and laces their fingers together, rolls his hips again.

“Do you remember what I was like at sixteen?” Harry asks, all but whispering the words into Louis’ mouth. “I was so completely taken with you. I would’ve gone along with anything that you asked me to do, so if you had have slipped me something and laid me out I would have swelled up in you without even realizing what was going on.” 

He rolls his hips against Louis’, long and smooth, and fuck, now Louis can’t _stop_ thinking about what it would have been like to have Harry when he was sixteen, how he’d have been so eager to please Louis, to get him off over and over. He probably wouldn’t have even cared about his own dick.

There’s sweat dripping down into Louis’ eyes. He blinks slowly, and when he opens them again he’s bent over the table, Harry pressed up against his back. 

“I would have done anything you wanted,” Harry continues, popping open the button on Louis’ jeans and dragging the zipper down. There’s a bottle of water right in front of Louis’ face, but when he goes to grab it, probably to try to hit Harry over the head with it and escape, Harry just grabs his hand, pinning it against Louis’ back easily. 

“You still do anything I want,” Louis says, before he can think the better of it. Harry’s using his free hand to shove Louis’ shirt up his body, and he doesn’t say anything, so Louis thinks, for a minute, that he didn’t hear it.

Then Harry’s voice comes back, distracted and heavy. “I do most things that you want,” Harry corrects. “Because I want them too. But I can see right through you now, baby, and you have to know that that’s not gonna work out for you.” 

Louis grits his teeth and rises up onto his toes, trying to get enough leverage to twist out of Harry’s grip or make the table collapse or _something_. 

Harry just shoves him back down with the palm of his hand, absently, like it took him exactly no effort to do it. “Get off of me,” Louis snaps. Harry doesn’t, though, and Louis can’t ignore the low grade pulsing in his dick anymore because Harry’s wrapped his hand around it.

“Fuck,” Louis says, voice breaking the tiniest bit. Harry shushes him and lets go of his hand in favor of parting Louis’ bum cheeks. “Don’t, don’t, don’t - ” Louis says, high pitched and anxious, but Harry ignores him and presses a finger in, slow and smooth and so fucking easy because Louis’ body is betraying him.

“I used to dream about it, you know,” Harry says conversationally, screwing his finger in deeper. “About knotting you even before I knew that I was going to have one. I would wake up in a pool of my own come, and it’d be so embarrassing, thinking that you were gonna be able to smell it on me, how much I wanted you.”

He sinks a second finger in just as easily. “Turns out that it wouldn’t have even mattered how embarrassing it was, though, because you were planning for it since the beginning.” He spreads his fingers abruptly, just shy of painfully, and Louis gasps, rising up onto his toes to try to escape it. 

Harry pulls him back down the same way as he had before and screws his fingers in earnest, quick, violent little jabs right up against Louis’ prostate that have him laying his hot cheek against the table and trying not to ride Harry’s fingers like he wants to.

Harry’s only wearing a t-shirt instead of his usual three layers, soft gray cotton, and it’s rubbing over Louis’ bare back. It almost itches, the way Louis’ body wants Harry’s skin pressed up against him.

“But do you know the main reason that you should have done it when I was sixteen?” Harry asks. He pins Louis’ hips still with just his body weight, fingers still working inside. The hand he has on Louis’ dick feels almost weightless, squeezing around the base so Louis can’t come until Harry lets him.

“Don’t,” Louis says again. He closes his eyes, wet for real now, and moves his arms until he finds a cool spot on the table.

“You should have done it when I was sixteen because I wouldn’t have figured it out and I wouldn’t have started playing you right back,” Harry murmurs, stripping his fist down Louis’ cock twice and rubbing his fingers over Louis’ prostate relentlessly. “Now you can come.”

Louis comes, hard and long and there are multi-colored spots behind his eyelids as Harry presses his fingers in a few more times before finally pulling them all the way out and leaving Louis slumped over the table in the dressing room where anyone could find him, opened up and his own wetness leaking down the back of his thighs.

Louis blinks at the table for a few minutes. He’s so fucked.

 

They play the show that night, and Louis takes extra care to stay well away from Harry. There’s already rumors going around that their relationship is volatile and going to break up the band, and they’re looking truer by the second.

He sticks close to Patty’s side and asks to be taken back to the hotel the second that he finds him after the show’s finished. Once he’s in his room he throws all the locks, even the chain one, which they’ve been specifically instructed never to do. Louis needs it, though, needs to be sure that Harry won’t be able to get in.

He needs to figure out what he’s going to do. Harry knows. Harry _knows_.

 

Somehow, Louis falls asleep. He doesn’t mean to - drank an entire pot of tea in effort _not_ to fall asleep, but he wakes up with his heart hammering in his chest and being stripped out of his briefs.

It’s Harry, because it wouldn’t be anyone _but_ Harry unless they had a death wish, but Louis so isn’t in the mood. 

He doesn’t have to be good anymore, either, so he kicks out, trying to get Harry in the face, maybe even break his nose. Louis doesn’t care. He wants Harry to hurt as much as Louis hurts right now.

Harry catches his legs and pins them down to the bed. “If you keep doing that I’m going to tie you down,” he hisses. A shiver runs down Louis’ spine. His stupid omega body wants that, wants to be tied up and forced to be good for Harry.

Louis struggles and kicks. He manages to get one leg free and twists around onto his back, shoving his foot up against Harry’s chest. He pushes using all of his strength, trying to force Harry off of the bed.

Harry leans into it, fingers tightening around Louis’ ankle. Louis keeps pushing, thigh muscles trembling with effort. It’s not working, but Louis can’t just let himself stop trying, getting his hands up to join the effort. He’s painfully aware of the weight of his cock between his legs, already hard and needy just from waking up with Harry on top of him.

He doesn’t think to be worried about what Harry’s doing with his hands until he gets two fingers right up the arse, abrupt and fast. It only hurts the same way it always does, stinging and _good_. Louis’ body will always betray him by getting slick when it thinks that Harry wants to fuck him.

“What the fuck,” Louis wheezes. He kicks Harry in the face because Harry doesn’t have the limbs to stop it, but it doesn’t get the fingers out of his bum. It only forces them a little deeper, and Louis’ hips start shifting into it even as he flails and tries to roll off the bed. He can’t think of any other move with the pressure of Harry’s fingers inside him, deep and thick.

“Stay still,” Harry orders, voice deep. He pins one of Louis’ thighs to the bed with his shoulder, the leg he isn’t gripping at the ankle.

Louis thrashes as much as he can. “Don’t fucking use your alpha voice on me, motherfucker,” he says. He can hear his own voice getting steadily higher in pitch, like he’s already caught on Harry’s cock.

“ _Be good_ ,” Harry says. His voice drops about a thousand octaves, and Louis’ stupid omega body wants to obey, wants to go limp and let Harry have his way.

Louis can’t let that happen. He needs to get Harry’s fingers out of him and to get out of the room, maybe hide in Zayn’s for a while, until Harry calms down. All he wants is to let Harry open him up even more and put Louis’ legs around his back while Harry fucks him, let Harry kiss him, but he can’t. He can’t.

Louis renews his efforts, shoving at Harry harder. Harry’s gaze slips down his body, to the spread of Louis’ thighs around his shoulders. When he looks back up his eyes are dark, wanting, and Louis can’t stop his flush from spreading.

“I’m not good,” Louis says shrilly. He closes his hands into fists and punches at Harry’s shoulders. He wants to leave bruises, reminders that no matter what Harry thinks he knows, Louis is always a step ahead. Harry’s fingers slip out of him as easily as they’d slipped in. “ _I’m not good_.”

Harry gets a hold of Louis’ wrists, and all of a sudden Louis’ pinned to the bed properly, arms stretched out above his head, thighs held down by Harry’s knees. There’s nowhere for him to go. All he can do is breathe heavily and turn his face away, clench his eyes closed to avoid having to see Harry’s face.

“You’re not good,” Harry agrees. There’s tendrils of shame licking through Louis’ belly that do nothing to ease the ache in his cock, the emptiness of his arse. Louis’ stupid omega body will always want Harry, no matter the circumstances.

Louis shifts his arms, trying to see if there’s any give in Harry’s grip. There’s not. “You’re not good,” Harry repeats, like he’s talking about Louis trying to escape even now. “You don’t listen, but if you ever listen to anyone it’s me so I need you to do that right now, alright?”

Louis thinks about spitting in his face. He doesn’t, but he wants to. “I’m gonna put you back onto your belly,” Harry says. His voice is soft, suddenly, gentle like he thinks that Louis needs that, and Louis hates it. “Don’t move, okay?”

Louis stretches his fingers and gets ready to break out of Harry’s grasp when he goes to flip him over. Harry flicks the head of his cock, hard, and flips him while Louis is still gasping with the hurt of it.

It hurts pretty fucking bad. Louis sets his teeth into the pillow and tries to wait it out, but he can’t, pain throbbing through his dick. He wiggles one of his wrists out of Harry’s grip, looser now than he’s on his belly, and shoves it underneath himself to cup his cock in his hand, protecting it from the fabric of the sheets.

It’s painful but his cock doesn’t soften any, hard and needy in the loose grip of his own hand. He doesn’t quite know what that says about him.

“What would you do if I spanked your arse before I fucked you?” Harry asks, but it sounds like he’s talking to himself, not Louis. “Got you all sore and tender before I got you on my knot. I bet you’d love it.”

“I’d kill you,” Louis says. He curls his fingers into the sheets and wishes that he was the type of person to keep a knife underneath his pillow. He wouldn’t use it, probably, but the threat it of it might be enough to get Harry off of him.

Harry’s hand comes down on the swell of his arse, hard and heavy. Louis yelps, flinching away from it as much as he can.

“Don’t,” Harry says sharply. Louis is getting bodily fluids everywhere, pre-come dripping down onto the sheets from his cock, seeping slick down his balls from his arse, spit collecting on the pillow from his open mouth. It’s unfair, the way Louis’ body responds to Harry. 

“Tell me the truth,” Harry says. He rubs his cock along Louis’ bum, pushing in between the cheeks, getting it wet with Louis’ slick. “When did you start planning it from.”

Louis grits his teeth and tries to ignore how good it feels to have Harry’s cock there, so close to where Louis needs it. It’s almost impossible, though, especially with his own cock throbbing in his hand, ready to come.

“I didn’t plan anything,” Louis says. He concentrates on staying very still. If he stays very still Harry might not do what Louis thinks he’s going to do and Louis’ life won’t be ruined.

Harry does, though, pushes a finger back into Louis’ body. He puts his mouth behind Louis’ ear, close enough that Louis can feel the drag of his lips across his skin as he says, “So if I had have knotted one of those girls instead of you, you would’ve been okay with it?”

Louis tenses all over, tightening down on Harry’s finger and making it impossible for Harry not to know. Harry laughs, low and smoky, into Louis’ ear, and slips a second finger into him. “If I left you here right now and found some girl to give my knot to, you wouldn’t care? Is that what you’re telling me?”

It doesn’t make sense. Nothing makes sense. Louis gasps into the pillow as Harry spreads his fingers, slick leaking out down his wrist. Louis can smell himself in the air, smell how desperate he is for it, how easy he’ll give it up for Harry.

“Don’t,” Louis says. He can ignore the dampness in his eyes if he tries hard enough. “Don’t do that.”

Harry’s fingers press in harder, stay firm against Louis’ prostate until Louis comes, gasping into the sheets. He doesn’t let up, wiggles a third finger in and adds that to the pressure. Louis is still hard, cock tender in his hand. Harry starts drawing his fingers out only to push them back in, fucking Louis shallowly. It sends Louis’ cock slipping through his hand, come easing the way.

“I’d never be able to knot anyone else, not with the way you ruined me,” Harry murmurs. Every word sends his lips dragging across Louis’ skin, tingling and wet. His other hand joins Louis’ underneath his body, wrapping around Louis’ fist and forcing his grip a little tighter.

“Didn’t ruin you,” Louis says, blinking the dampness out of his eyes. It could be sweat or tears and he doesn’t even know what it’s more likely to be anymore. He wants out of this situation but he wants Harry in him all the time.

“You did ruin me,” Harry says. He starts working Louis open in earnest, fingers spreading inside Louis’ arse. “You wanted to ruin me for anyone else. D’you really think anyone else would have me knowing that I think about you all the time?”

“’s not my fault,” Louis says. He’s getting a little mumble-y, words trying to slur themselves together because he’s got Harry fingers in his arse and Harry’s hand on his cock and he always gets a little loopy after his first orgasm. 

It’s hard to concentrate on holding up his side of the argument when all Louis’ body wants to do is open up and let Harry inside of him, let his alpha take care of him any way he wants.

“It’s not entirely your fault,” Harry says. He presses a kiss behind Louis’ ear, gentle and close-mouthed. Something in Louis eases. He lets his legs spread a little more, lets Harry get his fingers in that much deeper. “I let you get away with it. I could’ve stopped you if I had have wanted to.”

He pulls his fingers out abruptly. Louis fails at holding in his whine. “You keep telling yourself that I never knew any of it but that’s not true,” Harry says. He lines himself up and starts pushing in, slow and smooth.

Louis loses the rest of what Harry’s saying. It feels like he’s been waiting forever for this, for Harry’s cock to split him open. His ears ring once and then go silent. He can hear himself gasping as Harry keeps pushing in, hears Harry’s heavy, chopped breathing as he struggles to get himself under control with Louis clenching tight around him, not even all the way in.

Harry stops once he’s all the way in, heavy and sweaty on Louis’ back. It feels like he belongs there. 

Louis’ stupid omega body couldn’t want him more.

Harry tucks a hand into the back of Louis’ knee and pulls it up, forces him to spread out properly. It changes the angle to something amazing, deep and thick. Louis keens in the back of his throat and comes again, dripping through his fingers.

Harry’s still talking, vague soothing nonsense as he rocks his hips gently, easing Louis through the orgasm. His knot’s swelling up already, pressing against Louis’ rim. Louis breathes into his pillow and listens. Harry must realize that he’s actually listening now, body attuned to Louis’, because it changes from soothing nonsense to actual real words that mean something.

“Tell me how long you knew for,” Harry demands. His fingers curl around Louis’ hips and pull him up off the mattress. He pushes in hard, really thrusting now that Louis is more or less capable of paying attention again.

Louis says, “Always,” the word punched out of him with Harry’s rhythm. “I knew, I always knew, wasn’t gonna let you knot some girl - ” 

The knot pushes past Louis’ rim, settling inside his body like it was made for him. It probably was, Louis think a little crazily, made for Louis to take whenever he wants, made for Louis to be able to sit on any time of day and get himself off, get his alpha up in him whenever he needs it.

“I _know_ ,” Harry says, alpha voice back with a vengeance. Louis chokes out a sob and clenches down around him, hot and thick inside and exactly what Louis needs, all Louis will ever need. “You were trying to make me yours for _years_ but you never even fucking realized that you were mine since the day I laid eyes on you, pretty and perfect in a fucking toilet stall - ”

He has to stop to catch a breath, teeth scraping against the back of Louis’ neck. He curls an arm around Louis’ neck, maybe to lift him up into Harry’s hips. Louis wiggles on Harry’s knot until he can set his teeth into Harry’s arm, biting hard enough to draw blood.

Harry groans and shoves his hips in deep, starts coming. Louis wails, high-pitched and anxious, and follows him, cock trembling in between his fingers.

“ - my good boy, always my good boy, even when you’re trying not to be,” Harry’s saying. Louis blinks at the pillow, dazed, and remembers to turn his head so he can breathe properly. Harry’s still fucking his come into him, head of his cock pressing against Louis’ prostate even as he makes Louis even wetter.

Louis licks his dry lips and uncurls his fingers. He’s going to get off again, can already feel it building back up in his spine with the stretch of Harry’s knot in him. He feels heavy and weightless at the same time, body all but glued to the sheets. Harry’ll have to peel him off.

“’m good?” Louis mumbles. His eyes are slipping closed again, shocks of pleasure running through him. He rubs his chin across Harry’s arm, trying to coax him into holding Louis properly.

Harry obliges, sliding his arm underneath Louis’ shoulder and tipping them both over onto their sides. He slips his hand down Louis’ chest and settles on his stomach, curling their fingers together. He noses a kiss into the base of Louis’ neck, soft and sweet.

“You’re so good, baby,” Harry murmurs. Louis has to close his eyes against the prickling of tears in them. “You’ve been trying to be the perfect omega for me but you already are, when you’re not trying. When you’re rude to people and when you’re scheming and trying to come up with ways to make us too co-dependent to be apart. There’s no one more perfect for me than you.”

Louis comes, thin and weak but long, drawn out, dark spots dancing along the edges of his vision. He shivers his way through it, squeezing down on Harry’s cock and feeling it pulse out more come, come for Louis to keep inside his body that no one else will ever get to have.

It takes a few minutes for Louis to come down from it, and when he does he’s still clutching onto Harry’s hand.

It was probably the best orgasm of his life, and there’s no denying that it was due to Harry telling him how good he is. There’s still a flush spread through his face and chest, working its way down his belly. Harry’s watching it, tracing along its edges with the hand attached to the arm that’s still caught underneath Louis’ body.

Louis is still floating on a wave of endorphins when Harry says, “You’re not going to lie to me anymore.” Louis freezes for a second before clenching down on Harry’s knot again. It’s not - it’s so unfair to do this right now, when Louis is at his most vulnerable.

It doesn’t distract Harry the way it used to. Either he’s built up a tolerance to having Louis snug on him - unlikely, considering that more often than not the only thing he’s capable of saying when he first gets his cock into Louis is still _babybabybaby_ \- or he’s almost finished coming.

“Louis,” Harry says sharply. Louis can’t tell whether he’s saying it to get Louis to pay attention or to get him to stop squeezing down on him, so he does it again, clenching rhythmically. 

Harry’s hand shoots up and grabs Louis by the jaw, tilting his head to exactly where he wants it to be before biting down hard on the side of Louis’ neck.

It’s meant keep Louis in line, make him do what Harry says, and Louis bites down on his own lip because it fucking _works_ , sting of it spreading through Louis’ entire body.

“Say you’re sorry,” Harry orders, teeth still pressing into Louis’ throat, fingers tight against Louis’ skin. It’ll probably bruise, leave Louis aching every time he catches a glimpse of it in the mirror.

“Sorry,” Louis says. He has to close his eyes again. “Sorry, ‘m sorry.”

“For what?” Harry coaxes. He pulses one last string of weak come into Louis’ body before he starts softening.

Louis keeps his eyes closed as he thinks about it. He has a lot that he should be sorry for - for making the plan, for carrying it through, for manipulating Harry, for lying to him, for not letting Harry fuck him those first few years even though he knew how much Harry wanted to, for getting caught.

“Nothing,” Louis says, opening his eyes again. Harry’s cock slips out of him almost painlessly, still fat like it thinks it’s still going to get another chance to get up in Louis’ arse tonight. He can already feel some of Harry’s come start leaking out of him, slipping down the back of his thighs.

Harry moves fast, flipping Louis onto his back and settling between his thighs in the time it takes Louis to draw in a deep, steadying breath. He presses his mouth against Louis’ hard, biting Louis’ lips apart so he can slip his tongue in, licking into Louis’ mouth like he owns it.

Louis lets him, pushing his tongue against Harry’s clumsily. His hands drift up to Harry’s face, stroking over Harry’s cheekbones and along his jaw. Harry kisses him for another minute, gentling slowly, until he pulls away far enough that he can look Louis in the eyes, propping himself up on his elbows, arms underneath Louis’ head.

“Do you want babies?” he asks. His gaze is intent on Louis’ face, reading every nuance of Louis’ expression. 

Louis squirms a little, all too aware of Harry’s come leaking out of him, of all the come he still has held up in his body. If he wasn’t on birth control he’d probably have gotten knocked up from this, and there’s a part of him that likes the idea, of his belly being full with their child, with _Harry’s_ child so that Harry can never leave him, will have to keep coming home to Louis for the rest of his life.

Louis doesn’t know when Harry started being able to read every thought Louis has, but he definitely can, murmurs, “Gonna knock you up one day. Gonna be so pretty all full of my baby.” He rearranges himself, slips two fingers back into Louis and rides them up into him until Louis is arching his back and hissing, not sure whether he wants to get more or get away from it, oversensitive.

The way he knows Louis’ body is insane, knows when the pressure is too much and gentles his touch. He kisses Louis’ face, the corner of his mouth, his cheek, along his jaw. The omega in Louis squirms, pleased with the attention his alpha is lavishing on him, wants Harry’s attention on him all the time, greedy for it.

“How did you know?” Louis asks. There’s no point in pretending that he hasn’t spent four years trying to get Harry so dependent on his arse that he won’t ever fuck anyone else now that he’s sure Harry knows. He slides his hands around the back of Harry’s neck, linking his fingers together, keeping Harry close. He doesn’t think Harry’s trying to go anywhere, not with two of Harry’s fingers in his arse, but he feels the need to do it anyway.

“You slipped up all the time,” Harry says. He’s smiling, dimple carved into his cheek. He kisses Louis’ mouth again, firm and warm, like he can’t get enough of it. 

“I _did not_ ,” Louis protests. He wiggles his fingers, moving the baby fine hairs on the back of Harry’s neck.

“You did,” Harry says, still smiling. “The first time we fucked, I knotted inside you and you went completely boneless and said _finally_ like you’d been waiting for it all your life. It took me a while to figure it out, but you do something like that every time I get inside you. The time before last time I was pretty sure you’d been planning it all along so when I got you knotted properly I asked you how long you’d wanted it for and you said forever.”

Louis purses his lips. “That could’ve meant anything,” he says. “People say things that aren’t meant to be taken literally during the heat of the moment.”

“People do,” Harry agrees. “You don’t.”

Louis closes his eyes against the solid feeling of Harry’s fingers inside him, not even really doing anything, like they needed a place to rest and decided that inside Louis’ body was the perfect place for them. 

“You can’t have thought that I didn’t know what you were doing when I was letting you sit in my lap and wiggle around all the time,” Harry continues. Louis opens his eyes again.

“So why did you then?” he asks. “If you knew what I was doing then why did you keep letting me do it?”

Harry’s gone back to watching him. It’d be unnerving if he hadn’t spent the last three and a half years doing it. “The most obvious thing about you is that you like to be in charge.”

Louis waits, but he doesn’t continue. “Yeah, and?”

“And the other obvious thing is that you needed this to happen on your terms,” Harry says, shrugging like it’s not a big deal. “I knew that, at least subconsciously, so I let you.”

Harry stretches his fingers idly, rubbing over Louis’ prostate. It effective in reminding him of exactly what position he’s in, sitting in Harry’s lap and being fingered so slowly that he might go out of his mind with it.

Louis licks his lower lip and swallows, not sure whether he wants to try for another orgasm or not. He could, he’s pretty sure, omega body made to have multiple orgasms, but he’s already sensitive. If he goes for one more he’ll probably be sore in the morning.

“If you can do it I’ll eat you out in the morning,” Harry says, rubbing his fingers in the right spot relentlessly. “For as long as you want.”

Heat skitters up Louis’ spine. “If we keep having sex we’re never going to finish talking about it,” he says reasonably. Harry’s fingers curl inside him.

“We didn’t talk about it for four years,” Harry says. He tips down and kisses Louis on the mouth again. “I don’t think it’s going to hurt us any if we wait a couple more days.”

Louis rubs his own fingers on Harry’s neck, unconsciously imitating the movement’s of Harry’s inside him. “It’s going to hurt me,” he says. Harry’s fingers slow to a halt. “How many times do you think I can take your huge cock in me without being too sore to walk?”

Harry’s smile comes back in full force. “I don’t know, but I want to find out.” He wiggles his fingers insistently, pressing against Louis’ prostate. Louis pulls him back down for another kiss, spreading his legs so he can rock up against Harry’s stomach, rubbing himself off.

It doesn’t take him long to come again, slicking up Harry’s belly. It feels different than having an orgasm on Harry’s knot, but it’s still good. Louis likes the thought of Harry being just as messy as Louis is right now, even if there’s no way that’s even remotely true.

“Just tell me one thing,” Harry says. He pulls his fingers out of Louis and goes to sit up. Louis makes a vague protesting noise and clutches on tighter. Harry smirks, slips a hand underneath Louis’ back and pulls him up, settling them down on the bed with Louis on his chest, in between his legs.

Louis puts his head down on Harry’s chest, still clutching onto Harry’s bicep. What. He’s an omega, alright, he likes skin to skin contact after he’s been fucked like that.

“What,” Louis mumbles. He’s so past ready to fall asleep.

“Tell me you love me,” Harry says. 

It should be the moment that Louis panics, still caught in the idea that he needs to manipulate Harry into this, that Harry’s not ready to hear it.

Probably Harry’s been ready to hear it for a long time, though, so Louis struggles until he’s propped up on his elbows on Harry’s chest, slipping slightly in their combined sweat and probably also bodily fluids. They’re so gross. One of them should really get up to grab a cloth or something.

Or Harry should let them nap for ten minutes and then carry Louis to the shower. Louis likes that idea better.

“I love you,” Louis says. “Sometime in the last four years I tricked myself into falling in love with you.”

Harry’s smiling like he can’t stop. “Sometime in the last four years you tricked me into falling in love with you, too,” he says, and rolls Louis back underneath him, already pressing their mouths back together.

So much for a ten minute nap.

 

It takes them another two days to really start talking about it. They have _all the sex_ , every which way until Louis is sore, and then another time when Harry talks him into it.

On the morning of the third day, he holds Harry down and tickles him until Harry agrees to get breakfast. He waits, curled up on Harry’s side of the bed, underneath the blankets, until Harry gets back, balancing a tray of food shakily.

“Feed me,” Louis demands as soon as Harry’s climbed back into the bed and set the tray down. Harry kisses him instead, leaning over and resting his hand against the headboard.

Louis gives him fifteen seconds before he starts shoving at Harry’s chest. “I _said_ feed me,” he says. “Feed me. Feed me. Feed me.”

Harry trails a hand down between Louis’ legs. “How about I fuck you again?” he suggests, pressing lightly against Louis’ rim but not dipping in. Louis wiggles a little, and Harry sinks a finger in.

“How about you feed me or you’ll never fuck me again?” Louis counters. He blinks heavily when Harry crooks his finger just right.

“But you’re all wet,” Harry murmurs. “We can’t let that go to waste.”

“I’m wet because you came in me about ten thousand times,” Louis counters. He knees at Harry’s side until Harry slips his finger out of him.

Harry sighs and slumps back against the headboard. “Like you didn’t beg for it every time,” he mutters. He hands Louis a fork piled dangerously high with food.

Louis eats it, and Harry gives him another, not even trying to hide the way he’s watching Louis’ mouth. Louis rolls his eyes and wipes his lips off with the back of his hand.

“How about we talk about it and then after I’ll let you fuck me,” he says, putting the fork down on the bed. It’ll probably get lost in the sheets and end up stabbing Louis right when they get to the good part, but then at least Louis will have something to say _I told you so_ about.

“Talk about how you spent four years trying to manipulate me into mating you, you mean?” Harry asks, raising his eyebrows. Louis flinches a little. “What, did you think I wasn’t going to call you out on it?”

“Let’s have sex instead,” Louis decides. He clambers into Harry’s lap and rolls his hips down, trying to get Harry’s cock interested.

It’s already a little interested, so Louis figures he won’t have to do much work.

“No, now I want to talk about how you spent the entire time we’ve known each other trying to lie to me,” Harry says, stilling Louis’ hips with both hands.

Louis bites the corner of his lip for a second before it registers in his brain. “ _Trying_ to lie to you?”

Harry shrugs a shoulder, muscles all but rippling. Louis really needs to work on distracting him better whenever he wants to go to the gym. “I told you, you always mess up,” he says.

“You trusted me,” Louis says a little blankly. There’s no way Harry knew that he was lying. He wouldn’t have been so angry if he had have known that Louis was lying all along.

“Just because you were lying didn’t mean that you weren’t trustworthy,” Harry says. 

Louis frowns. “That’s kind of exactly what it means.”

“Okay, listen to me properly for once, alright?” Harry says. He presses his thumbs into Louis’ sides until Louis nods. “I knew that you were lying the entire time we were fucking. Maybe not the first time, but after that you kept fucking up and saying stupid shit that took me a while to figure out. Usually after your fourth orgasm you start talking about what our honeymoon’s gonna be like, did you know that?”

“I do not,” Louis denies. He flicks at Harry’s chest. “Who’s lying now?”

Harry’s smiling. “You couldn’t decide between Barcelona and Fiji for a while.” 

“You know how I know you’re lying?” Louis asks. “Because I’ve always wanted to go to Italy and sightsee when I get married.”

Harry shakes his head. “You want to go to Italy and sightsee _period_. When you get married you want to go to Fiji and bake in the sun for six hours a day and then get fucked for the rest of it. You want to do about as much work on our honeymoon as you do when I tell you that we need to clean the house.”

Louis considers it. He really doesn’t want to do anything on his honeymoon except get laid a lot and eat and tan, and that’s not something that he’s ever told anyone, aware that it sounds slightly ridiculous when he has all this money to be doing something exciting. 

He must have told Harry, though, even if he can’t remember, because Harry wouldn’t know otherwise.

“Okay,” Louis concedes. “Fine, whatever, I’ll give you that.”

“Give me the fact that I can always get you to tell me the truth, even when you’re still lying?” Harry asks.

“That doesn’t even make any sense,” Louis complains. He wiggles around until he’s more comfortable and picks up a grape off of the tray, popping it into his mouth.

“It makes sense to you,” Harry says. “I make sense to you even when I don’t make sense to anyone else.” Louis makes a face and shrugs, doesn’t feel like denying it. It’s true, anyway. He usually knows what Harry means, even when Harry doesn’t know what Harry means.

Louis eats another grape. “Tell me something, though,” Harry says. “How did you plan for it to actually go?”

Louis swallows the fruit and makes a thoughtful noise. “What, like, the entire thing?”

“No, just the end. How did you plan to get us into a relationship? You can’t have thought that you’d just go off your suppressants and that would be it, we’d be together.”

Louis shrugs a little. “Pretty much, yeah.”

Harry grips his wrist and stops him from grabbing another grape. “No you didn’t.”

“I wasn’t planning on getting knocked up, if that’s what you’re asking,” Louis says sharply. “I wouldn’t have gone that far.”

Harry loosens his grip. “Okay, maybe I don’t always make sense to you,” he says. “I know that you wouldn’t do that. I mean, I don’t doubt that you thought about it, but when it comes down to it I know you wouldn’t.”

Louis relaxes. He wouldn’t. He did think about it, in a vague _how to keep Harry forever_ kind of way, but he knows better than a lot of people that a baby doesn’t make someone stay. It’s just something to think about sometimes, something that’s a little hot when he needs that edge to get off, by himself and lonely, being full of Harry’s baby and tricking Harry into keeping both of them.

What. He’s a little fucked up. It’s the entire reason that he’s where he is right now, sitting on Harry’s lap.

“It was the same as it always was, I guess,” Louis says. “I just thought I’d coax you into it. If you were fucking me through my heat it was gonna be a pretty good indication that you weren’t gonna leave, right?”

“I was never going to leave,” Harry says. He lets Louis turn his hand and tangle their fingers together. “I wasn’t joking when I said that you were mine since the day I first saw you.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Louis says. “What if I turned out to be an annoying little shit?”

“You mean more than you already are?” Harry asks. He’s smiling, but Louis still can’t let it pass, so he twists Harry’s nipple and doesn’t let go until Harry pulls him off, fingers tight around Louis’ wrist. He doesn’t ease up once he’s got Louis in his grip, and Louis is suddenly, viscerally reminded of all the ways that Harry’s stronger than him.

Louis swallows, gaze fixed on Harry’s fingers wrapped all the way around his wrist easily for what feels like forever until he manages to drag his gaze back up. “So the size difference really is a thing for you, huh,” Harry says, soft and amused.

Louis scowls and shifts pointedly on Harry’s lap. “It’s a thing for you too,” he says defensively. 

“Of course it’s a thing for me, have you ever seen yourself?” Harry asks, laughing. He brings Louis’ hand up to his mouth and kisses his knuckles. “You’re all tiny and pretty and perfect.”

Louis can feel his face doing a weird thing, but he can’t stop it. “Time to change the subject,” he announces, unnecessarily loud.

“Alright,” Harry agrees easily, in the way that always means that he’s willing to let it go for now but he’ll bring it up again later when Louis least suspects it, “how did you know I was going to be an alpha?” 

Louis just shrugs. “Dunno. Just did. I know with everyone.”

“So you don’t think it’s weird that you can tell everyone’s ABO status within five seconds of meeting them, but soulmates is going too far for you?” Harry asks.

“When you put it like that it sounds dumb,” Louis says. He narrows his eyes suspiciously. “Why do you just believe me when I say that I know everyone’s ABO status without trying?”

Harry’s playing with Louis’ fingers, bending them back and forth, stretching them out. “It’s the only thing that makes any sense.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Louis demands. Harry’s fingers slow and then stop completely, still resting on Louis’ hand.

“You’re probably not going to like it,” Harry says. Louis pulls his hand away entirely.

“Tell me.”

Harry chews on the inside of his lip, considering. “You have to kiss me once more before you go getting all mad at me,” he bargains.

Louis frowns. “No.”

Harry watches Louis’ mouth move like he’s going to ignore Louis and do it anyway, which is unacceptable. He presses two fingers to his own mouth before pressing them against Louis’ gently, only for a second before drawing them away.

“You have to have known that I would be an alpha. It’s like whenever you remembered that you knew I was an alpha you’d get all sweet and quiet like you were trying to convince me that you could be a good little omega for me,” Harry says. 

Louis stays quiet. He’s not wrong. “It was always completely out of the blue,” Harry continues, watching Louis’ face like he expects him to snap. “And, I mean, it was nice sometimes, don’t get me wrong, when I had a headache and you weren’t running around shouting at the top of your lungs, but most of the time it was just _weird_ , because I knew that’s not really what you were like.”

Louis just. He can’t let this continue if Harry doesn’t understand, as much as Louis really doesn’t want to say it. “It wasn’t always because I was trying to convince you I could be a good omega for you.”

Harry grips him by the back of the neck abruptly. Louis looks at him, eyes wide and heart beat picking up.

“I knew when it wasn’t an act,” Harry says. “God, of course I knew when it wasn’t an act. When you let that part of yourself show, like, truly, it’s not sweet and quiet. It’s coy and flirty and trying to lure me into dark corners with you.”

“You make me sound like I’m some kind of sex craved monster or something,” Louis says. He shifts a little more on Harry’s lap, putting a few more inches between their faces than there was before.

Louis can feel Harry’s eyes on his face again. “Where did you get all these ideas about what a good omega’s supposed to be?” he demands. “I know that your mum didn’t teach you them.”

Louis slides off Harry’s lap completely. They’re definitely fighting now. “It’s what everyone thinks an omega should be, Harry,” he says tiredly.

“ _You’re_ what an omega should be,” Harry says. “You’re what my omega should be. I don’t understand why you think I’d want you to be quiet and in the background when I could have you loud and in my face all the time.”

“That’s not what normal people _want_ ,” Louis says, getting a little bit shrieky. He - fuck, he hates it so much when he gets like that, hates the way he sounds. He makes an effort to steady his voice. “Normal alphas don’t want their omegas to be loud and abrasive and stubborn. They want them to be docile and sweet and _submissive_.”

“This isn’t the fifties, Louis,” Harry snaps. “I’m allowed to want you just the way you are and you’re allowed to be mean and sassy and pushy.”

Louis doesn’t even think about the next words that could out of his mouth. “If you wanted me like that why do you like putting me underneath you so much?”

Harry jerks like he’s been slapped. “You’re talking about _the sex_?” he asks incredulously. 

“Of course I’m talking about the sex, Harry, what else is there to really talk about?” Louis demands. His efforts to keep his voice from getting shrill are failing.

Harry breathes for a minute, like he’s trying to get himself under control. Louis waits and tries not to feel like he’s going to vibrate right out of his skin with impatience. “You want to talk about the sex?” he asks eventually.

Louis nods and goes to open his mouth. “Let’s talk about the sex, then,” Harry says grimly, cutting Louis off. “Let’s talk about how you _love it_ when I hold you down. Let’s talk about how you can get off four times on my cock. Let’s talk about how you always, _always_ want it in the morning, even though you’re not a morning person and you don’t actually want to do any of the work and just want to be fucked.”

Louis listens dumbly. “Let’s talk about how you initiate it ninety percent of the time,” Harry continues. “Let’s talk about how when you want to be fucked you turn into the biggest cocktease in the _world_. Let’s talk about how, sexually, we mesh so well that neither of us has even thought about fucking anyone else since that very first time. Let’s talk about how you knew that I had finally popped my knot because you made it your mission to know about thirty seconds after I did.

“Let’s talk about how you’re the best thing that I’ve ever felt and how just because we both like it when you’re underneath me when we have sex doesn’t mean that you’re going to be a quiet submissive little omega the rest of the time.”

Louis just sits, stunned into silence, unsure about how he feels about all that. He’s not - he normally wouldn’t want anyone to know all that about him, dislikes how it basically ticks every single ‘omega sexual likes’ box, but it’s Harry.

It’s Harry, who has known Louis’ biggest secret for at least six months, if he’s not exaggerating, and kept it so close to his chest that _Louis hadn’t even known that he knew_.

He’s the person that Louis trusts most in the world.

“You’re talking about mating,” Louis says weakly, because that’s what it boils down to. “You’re talking about mating me.”

Harry’s gripping onto his own hands like they’re the only thing preventing him from reaching out and touching Louis. “I’ve wanted to mate you since I was sixteen years old,” he says. “I just. It’s hard for me to understand how you’ve been trying to get me tangled up with you for four years but somehow you still don’t realize that.”

“I,” Louis says. He swallows and can’t finish, can’t think of anything else to add.

“And, like, you came up with this ridiculous, convoluted, never-ending plan to get me to fall in love with you and consistently lied to me for four years, and I should be angry with you,” Harry says. “I should be so mad at you that I never want to see you again, but whenever I think about it all I can concentrate on is how you’d pretend to be a good little omega from the fifties for five minutes before you’d get all squirmy and happy to be doing something bad or mean and the only time you _really_ care about being good is when you’re being fucked.”

Harry pauses to take a breath. “That should worry me, too, that you have so many issues with what being an omega is supposed to be like, and don’t get me wrong, it does, but only because I want you to be happy with me but most of all I want you to be happy with yourself, and I think that when you’re not convincing yourself that you should be dainty or submissive or some shit like that you are. Happy with yourself, that is, with who you are.”

Louis stares at him with his mouth open a little bit. He’s suddenly aware that he’s naked, that they’re both naked and in bed together and Louis is _sore_ from the past two days but it doesn’t even matter because he just wants Harry in him again.

There’s so many things that Louis could say to that, so many things that Louis probably _should_ say to that, but they have the rest of their lives to talk about all of Louis’ insecurities and fucked up character traits and how Harry’s fucked up in equal but different ways, and so many things left to talk about, so Louis opts for the most important thing and says, “Fuck me. Fuck me right the fuck now.”

He launches himself at Harry and lands mostly in his lap, so Harry doesn’t really have a choice but to catch him. He smashes their mouths together desperately and grabs Harry’s hand, guiding it around to his hole, already so eager for it that he doesn’t want to wait for however long it takes Harry to get with the program.

He presses one of Harry’s fingers inside impatiently, trying to get the fingering out of the way because he doesn’t need it, not after being fucked pretty much non-stop for two days, but Harry will never do it without. No matter how minimal or rushed the prep is Harry always insists on it.

“You’re not too sore?” Harry asks, pressing a second finger inside before Louis even has a chance to answer.

Louis gasps and rocks down onto them, slick already leaking out of his body. “Of fucking course I’m too sore, you’ve fucked me like eighty times in the past two days. You’re gonna do it again anyway, though.”

Harry’s fingers slow, seeking out Louis’ prostate. Louis whines in the back of his throat and scratches at Harry’s abs, trying to get him to move faster. 

“You wanna come on my fingers first?” Harry asks. He rubs against Louis’ prostate insistently and has Louis’ toes curling, tucked up underneath his thighs.

“If I wanted to come on your fingers I would’ve fucking told you that I wanted to come on your fingers,” Louis hisses. He slumps onto Harry’s chest and reaches a hand in between them, searching for Harry’s cock.

It doesn’t take much effort to find, big and hard. Louis strokes it a little, the best he can from this angle, tight so Harry will know what he’s missing by not getting it into Louis’ arse.

“You’re so pushy,” Harry murmurs into Louis’ hair, but he draws his fingers out complacently when Louis pushes up onto his knees and guides Harry’s cock to his hole.

“If I wasn’t pushy we never would have gotten here,” Louis says. He sinks down onto it and promptly loses his breath, getting filled inch by inch because Harry doesn’t move his hips to help.

Harry waits until he’s sunk all the way down to say, “You took four years to get us here,” like he thinks he could have done it better.

Louis thinks about it, bum resting in Harry’s lap and filled with his cock, and decides that he doesn’t like that idea. There’s no way that Harry could have done it better than Louis did. Louis did it exactly the way they needed it to happen.

Louis always knows what they need, and to prove it he pushes himself back up onto his knees before sinking down again, setting an uneven rhythm as he rides Harry’s cock. He slaps Harry’s hands away when they stray to his hips, probably to ‘help’, because Louis hasn’t decided to let him.

He knows Harry’s eyes are on his face even with his own closed, concentrating, which only serves to deepen his flush, knowing that Harry’s watching every expression cross Louis’ face, even when he could be watching Louis bounce in his lap.

“Don’t look at me,” Louis says, keeping his eyes closed. He curls his hands into fists and bounces a little faster, trying to angle Harry’s cock exactly the way he wants it. 

It’s usually easier, but maybe that’s because Harry usually helps, and when he doesn’t Louis is already on his knot, which somehow never fails to be in the right place to give Louis all the pleasure he wants.

“You’re the only thing I ever want to look at,” Harry says. It sounds like a line. Probably it would normally _be_ a line, if he was using it on anybody but Louis, but he’s not and it sounds as honest as everything else he’s said today.

Louis shudders and comes to a slow halt. They’re exactly the right amount of fucked up for each other. Louis makes excellent fucking life choices.

Harry’s hands come up to grasp Louis’ hips. “Are you okay?” he demands, like he’s concerned that his cock has hurt Louis.

Louis isn’t okay, actually, thighs tired and sore and he doesn’t have Harry’s knot inside him yet and he hasn’t been kissed in like, ten minutes. Louis always hesitates at thinking of himself as high maintenance, but the truth is that he fucking _is_ , and Harry better fucking appreciate that.

Louis opens his eyes and meets Harry’s gaze. “I told you to fucking fuck me right the fuck now, didn’t I?” he asks.

Harry’s face shifts through a multitude of expressions so fast Louis only catches a few of them and settles on happy. One of his hands slides around to the small of Louis’ back and he flips them so fast that Louis is left blinking up at the ceiling, dazed.

He doesn’t waste any time before setting into a brutal, fast rhythm, knocking against Louis’ prostate with every thrust in a way that Louis would have never been able to manage on his own. Louis is making noise again, high pitched and breathy, dragging his nails down Harry’s back.

“Are you gonna come for me?” Harry demands abruptly, curling his fingers around Louis’ cock. “Gonna come for me before I’ve even knotted you, you just love it that much?”

Louis gasps as Harry swipes his thumb over the head of his cock and settles his arms around Harry’s neck, unwilling to let him get too far away. “Always get so wet for me,” Harry groans, pumping his fist on Louis’ cock. “Just so wet everywhere.”

It’s true - the sheets are going to be fucking _ruined_ by the time they’re done, slick seeping out of him even with Harry’s cock to block it, leaking pre-come all over Harry’s fist.

“Only get wet for you,” Louis says. He makes an effort to tighten up on Harry’s cock, to make Harry feel as good as he makes Louis feel. 

Harry groans again and kisses him, hot and just as desperate as Louis feels. He drags his hand up Louis’ cock again and pauses at the head, toying with it, and Louis comes, shooting in between them and getting them even messier.

Harry’s knot starts swelling at the same time, locking in Louis’ arse while Louis is still shivering through the after shocks of his first orgasm.

Louis half hears him gasping out his usual, “Baby, you feel so good, _baby_ ,” as he presses him further into the mattress like he thinks he can get in even deeper or something. Louis licks his lips and tangles his fingers in Harry’s hair, lets his legs relax and fall onto the mattress. He’s not going anywhere for a while, now. 

It’s not going to take him long before he starts wanting to get off again, but for now he can just lie here and enjoy the feeling of Harry’s knot pressing into him in all the right places.

Harry’s breathing into his throat, fingertips pressing bruises into Louis’ hips. Louis likes that, likes that when they go back to work he’ll still be able to feel them and know that they’re there, even if no one else does.

It brings up the question of how they’re going to tell the boys, though, and that’s not something that Louis wants to think about right now. Luckily, he doesn’t have to. Harry shifts, punching his knot in deeper, and that tingle starts spreading up Louis’ spine again.

“You gonna come for me again?” Harry rasps. Louis nods dumbly, dragging his nails across Harry’s scalp. Harry nails him a couple more times, until Louis is gasping and tightening his fingers, probably pulling out some of Harry’s hair, and coming, eyes closed and head tipped back.

Harry starts coming, too, long, thick pulses that fill Louis up. He’s already aching from how much he’s taken it recently, but holding Harry’s come inside of his body makes it feel like it’s worth it, eases some of the hurt.

They kiss through it. One of them initiated it, probably, but Louis has no idea who it was, and it’s not like it matters, anyway, not with Harry’s mouth on his and Harry’s cock throbbing inside him.

“Look at you, it’s like you were made for my cock,” Harry says. He runs a knuckle down Louis’ stomach, through his come, rubbing it into his skin.

“’m older, your cock was made for me,” Louis mumbles. He lets Harry nudge his head to the side so he can bite a little at a mark he’d made earlier.

Harry hums quietly, something Louis doesn’t recognize. “I’ll take it,” he says. “My cock made to give you pleasure.” He kisses Louis again, lazily, tongue stroking against Louis’ gently.

By the time the kiss breaks, Louis is a little lightheaded and completely hard again. “You wanna come again?” he murmurs, rubbing his knuckles on Louis’ belly with a little more purpose.

“I could go again,” Louis says.

Harry doesn’t move to fuck Louis properly, or to get him off. Instead, he’s quiet for a minute, thoughtful, still pulsing come steadily. “You wanna go two in a row?”

Louis goes tense and instantly curses his body for never failing to sell him out. Harry just watches him, waiting for an answer. He probably won’t take a non-verbal answer this time, either, and will make Louis say it out loud, either way.

The obvious answer is _yes_ , because Louis does want that, want to be forced to come and then come again right away, can only imagine how it feels. He always has more than one orgasm when he’s getting fucked, and it’s not like they’re ever really that far apart, but _two in a row_?

“Dunno,” Louis says. Harry’s gaze is questioning, so Louis elaborates. “Dunno if I can.”

Harry hooks his arms underneath Louis’ legs and spreads him open again, pushing his knees up towards his chest. “You can,” he says, and rocks against Louis’ prostate.

“Just because you’re hitting me in the right places doesn’t mean I’m going to be able to,” Louis says shakily, clenching down around Harry’s knot. Harry kisses him, open mouthed and dirty, fucking his tongue into Louis’ mouth.

“No, you’re going to because you want to show me how pretty you are after you’ve come twice in a row,” Harry murmurs. “You always want me to see how pretty you are, always fighting for my attention like you think I’m capable of looking at anything else when you’re in the room.”

Louis whines and relaxes into the insistent press of Harry’s cock against his prostate. It feels amazing, filled to the brim with Harry’s knot and his come, knowing that it’s there because there’s no one in the entire world who’ll ever be able to love him better than Louis.

“Nothing else?” Louis asks. He’s more or less aware of how vulnerable he sounds, but he can’t fucking help it, not with Harry all up in him just right.

“Don’t ever wanna look away from you,” Harry says. “Only need to take one look at you to know you’re mine but once I start it’s like I can’t stop. Most beautiful thing in the room.”

“In a room with me and Rihanna and Chris Martin,” Louis says challengingly. He’s having a hard time keeping it together, almost ready to come, but it feels like this might be important.

Harry laughs breathlessly and fucks Louis a little harder. “That’s a strange fucking question,” he says. “But it’s you, hands down, every time.”

“Okay,” Louis says, satisfied for now. Harry laughs again and presses his mouth to Louis’ throat.

“Okay?” he echoes, muffled. “You don’t want to list off anymore celebrities and see if I think they’re more attractive than you?”

Louis thumps his back. “No, I want you to fuck me _properly_ ,” he says. “Like you mean it.”

Harry lifts his head, eyes dark. “Oh, like I _mean_ it?” he asks. “Alright. I can fuck you like I mean it.” He doesn’t wait for a response before he just does it, snapping his hips back and forth, so hard and exactly what Louis wants that he nearly forgets to breathe for a minute.

“But you are,” Harry says, almost like he can’t help himself, “You’re the most beautiful thing in my life, you always have been.”

Louis comes, thighs tensing and cock rubbing between their bellies. Harry hisses out an approving noise and shoves Louis’ left leg up around his back, shoving his hand in between them to grab a hold of Louis’ cock.

“Look at how good you are, baby,” he says, rubbing Louis’ cock firmly. He doesn’t let it start to flag even a little, keeps it hard in his hand as he strokes it, using Louis’ own come to ease the way.

“You’re good,” Louis breathes. “You’re good, you’re so good to me.”

Harry kisses the side of his mouth. “I’m so good to you that I’m gonna make it three,” he says.

The threat of it is enough to have Louis coming again, spilling into Harry’s hand and tightening up on his cock, squeezing more come out of Harry’s knot. “Can’t do three,” he slurs into Harry’s mouth. He reaches clumsily for Harry’s hand, trying to knock it away.

Harry doesn’t relinquish his grip. “You can give me three in a row,” he says firmly. “You’re _going_ to give me three in a row.”

“I’m not, I’m not,” Louis gasps, tossing his head. 

“You are, though,” Harry says. “You know why?”

Louis shakes his head. There’s hair dangerously close to his eye, matted down with sweat. Harry pumps him a couple more times, hand wet with Louis’ come. “You’re going to give me three in a row because you know that when we get married I’m going to take you to Fiji and let you laze around all day doing nothing more strenuous than getting fucked.”

Louis wiggles his other leg out of Harry’s grasp and locks his ankles behind Harry’s back. “Okay,” he chokes out. “Give it to me, make me come.”

He lifts his hips helpfully when Harry puts his hands under them and pushes up, legs sliding down Harry’s back.

“I can’t wait,” Harry chokes out, shoving into Louis harder, until Louis goes sliding up the bed. “I can’t wait for you to go back to being naughty and mischievous and only being good for me, do stupid shit with me for the rest of our lives and get married and let me roll you underneath me whenever I want and only be submissive when you feel like it. I want that with you for the rest of my life.”

Louis’ entire body seizes up, muscles locking together almost painfully as he comes, squeezing down tight on Harry’s cock. He can’t keep track of what he’s saying, only knows that he’s mumbling out words, words that might not even make any sense, eyes slipping closed.

He drifts off for a while, responding to Harry’s questions and voice without even knowing what either of them are saying, feeling Harry finish coming and has one more orgasm punched out of him on Harry’s softening knot before Harry pulls out completely.

By the time Louis gets back with it, Harry’s asking, “Are you gonna want kava or Fiji Bitter beer, do you think?” 

Louis blinks up at him heavily, hair stuck to his forehead and limbs practically glued to the bed, they’re so tired. He’s achy and sensitive, on his cock and in his arse, and there’s probably come leaking out of him. He can’t feel it quite yet, but the sheets are uncomfortably wet beneath him already.

“Probably gonna like the beer better but we’ll try both,” he says. He waves a hand vaguely. “Can you like, do something about this.”

“Like eat you out?” Harry asks, looking up in interest. Louis considers it. It sounds really fucking nice, Harry’s tongue warm and wet and cleaning him out so Louis can go to sleep and not wake up still dripping.

He shakes his head. “Like, change the sheets.” It’s a nice thought, but Louis is actually genuinely too tired for it right now. He feels like he’s about to pass out in ten seconds.

Harry wiggles his fingers and looks down at them. “So you’re too sore for it?” he asks. Louis shoves at his chest until he rolls off, and then shoves his way out of the wet spot, clambering over Harry and onto the mostly dry part of the bed.

“You can kiss me for a while, until I fall asleep,” he says magnanimously. “Then you can wake me up in ten hours by eating me out, if you still want to do that. You’re not going to get to fuck me again, though, so you’ll have to make do without.”

“That’s a pretty good deal,” Harry says, smiling, so Louis pinches his side, and by the time their mouths meet, they’re both laughing into it, happy and warm. Louis wasn’t lying, though, he is truly exhausted, so he doesn’t last long before he’s slipping off into sleep, still pressed into the mattress by Harry’s warm body.

 

If Louis wakes up four hours later and slides back down onto Harry’s cock despite his earlier protests, well. He’s pinned his entire future on this boy, and it’s pretty much a guaranteed thing at the point, so no one can blame him.

Plus he thinks that now might be the perfect time to finally tell him how he triggered Louis’ heat the very first time he fucked him.

Turns out that dreams do come true.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is dedicated to [vanillalou](http://archiveofourown.org/users/vanillalou/pseuds/vanillalou) who paid me a generous compliment by calling me the bottom louis queen, and also to an anonymous poster on the [askdaddykink](http://askdaddykink.tumblr.com) blog who said that I was their favourite h/l writer.
> 
> Thanks to both of you for making my day!
> 
> Thanks as well to anyone and everyone who's ever read and commented on the other stories. One of them made 10,000 hits and that's just amazing to me.


End file.
